


Outsiders

by EllanaSan



Series: Katniss, The Vampire Slayer [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, F/M, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), vampire slayer!katniss, watcher!haymitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: “Did Haymitch tell you we get to do magic next? Apparently, the amulet needs to be destroyed with holy fire or something…” Mellark said.Katniss made a  face. “Are we getting Trinket?”Trinket? How many teachers were in on this thing? Gale had troubles imagining the pretty Art teacher being part of agang… And what was that aboutmagic?  Unlessmagicwas some sort of drug?What if itwasn’ta gang? What if it was asector something like that?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is episode 3 of the Katniss the vampire slayer series! I hope you enjoy this one! Please do let me know your thoughts!

When she was on the phone with her mother, Effie Trinket could never sit still.

It had to do with the fact Elindra Trinket disapproved of _most_ of what her daughter did and had _very_ little interest for the rest. Currently, Effie was walking around the living-room of _The Capitol’_ s penthouse and berating herself for not remembering that before taking the decision to call her mother.

She wasn’t close with her mother, she had never been, even before Caesar Flickerman had rung the doorbell one morning to rip her away from her glamorous life in LA to bring her to cold and rainy England where she had been forced to give up school to learn about stakes, blades and crossbows. Not altogether her favorite subjects.

She had been thirteen when her parents had been told she might become a Slayer, late by Council standards since most of the Potentials were located as infants, and neither her father – who tended to delegate to Elindra every decision that concerned their two daughters – nor her mother – who had been far too relieved that the Council wasn’t there because of her own magical activities – had opposed her going.

She had been angry with them for a long time about that and she had made her Watcher’s life a living hell as a consequence – Slayer training _wasn’t_ compatible with one’s manicure and Effie had always had her priorities straight: between killing a vampire and protecting her nails, she would protect her nails. She knew how to fight, she had been trained for it, but she had always disliked the physical aspect of it. She disliked the violence of having to slam a stake into a vampire’s chest, she disliked the blood and grime that came with chopping off a demon’s head, she disliked the looming certainty that death was around the corner… At thirteen, she had loved sunshine, ice cream and slumber parties. England had proved lacking on the three accounts. 

In the end, she hadn’t become a Slayer and she had disappointed Caesar.

She still remembered perfectly the night he had gotten the phone call about the rogue Slayer that had activated on the Seam’s Hellmouth. _Maysilee Donner._ Sixteen, the very same age as her… She remembered perfectly the way Caesar’s face had fallen in disappointment before it had morphed into plain relief. She had never asked why he would be relieved to miss the opportunity of a lifetime – every Watcher wanted to have an active Slayer and go down in history – because she knew. She would never have survived more than a few months and Caesar knew that as well as she did. She had spent the three following years wishing Maysilee would survive long enough that her own calling would be unlikely.

In the end, she had become a Watcher, to make Caesar proud in the only way she could, and she had disappointed her mother too. 

In truth, her mother hadn’t needed much more incentives to be disappointed. Her meager magical talents had seen to that. Elindra came from a very long line of witches and while she had forgiven Effie’s sister’s lack of skills due to the fact she had married well, Effie’s lack of _everything_ that was important to Elindra was a sore point.

“ _Of course_ , there is electricity, mother.” she sighed to the ridiculous question. “This is rural America, not the Middle Ages.”

She headed to the small table in the corner, ashes threatening to fall from the end of her cigarette. Where had the ashtray gone now?

_“Well, excuse me for asking, Euphemia.”_  her mother mocked. _“You do seem to like settling down in the most unfashionable places.”_

“Was I ever given a choice?” she retorted.

“ _Attitude.”_  Elindra chided. _“I never forced you to join those_ dreadful _watchmen. You should have come home and marry a nice young man like your sister did. Put an end to this foolishness.”_

God forbid she had a little more _ambition_ than _that_.

Once it had been too late for her to be called, at eighteen, she had found herself without prospects but eager to leave Caesar’s house. Potentials traditionally either became Council’s operatives or left that life altogether. It was very obvious to both her and her Watcher that she was not made to be a soldier. She had briefly entertained the thought of becoming a model, to leave behind the darkness and the glum of the occult that had followed her most of her life and to embrace the softness and the warm colors of _fashion_ – the only god her eighteen year-old self had recognized and worshipped.

She had probably been the only Potential in Council history who insisted on wearing _heels_ to patrol cemeteries.

Those dreams had only lasted a few months, long enough to realize that Los Angeles was full of younger and more beautiful girls and to remember that living with her parents meant being exposed to her mother’s recurrent remarks about how disappointing it was that she lacked magical talents and that the line of Trinket witches would die with _her_ or that she should mind her weight because she would never find a husband if she grew fat. She might have persevered in the fashion world, become an actress maybe, if it hadn’t been so _glaring_ that the best she would ever achieved in LA was to become a waitress – well, she _could_ have lived on her parents’ money but that made her feel even worse, _indebted_ in a way she wasn’t comfortable being given her mother’s clear penchant toward black magic. Black witches had peculiar ideas about debts.

She had gone back to England because when she had stopped and taken a good hard look at her life, she had realized it was the only real home she had ever known. So she had gone back, back to Caesar and the darkness she never had any hope of vanquishing because she had not been special enough to become the Slayer. He had welcomed her with his usual smile and twinkling eyes and he had negotiated to have her enrolled in the Watcher academy. Since she had never liked _not_ excelling at something – slaying notwithstanding – she had ended up top of her class. She _would_ have been the best Watcher out there if the Council hadn’t been so rooted in traditions and favored the old Watcher families rather than talent. She might make them forget through her perfect manners sometimes but she wasn’t British by birth and she did not have a ladyship, two things that were required to climb the Council of Watchers’ ladder.

It was one of the reasons she had been so surprised to be sent to the Seam in the first place. It wasn’t the first time the Council shipped her off to observe a particular situation and, in some cases, asked her to see what she could do about it, but it _was_ the first time she was assigned a mission of _that_ importance. Anything that related to the Slayer was important. And the fact that Caesar refused to explain why _she_ had been picked was even more puzzling.

“ _How is it going anyway? You are_ awfully _close-lipped.”_ Elindra hummed curiously _. “How is this new Slayer?”_

“Unlikely to take a plane to L.A. only to put an end to your business, Mother.” she deadpanned.

Sometimes, she thought the only reason Elindra bothered keeping in touch was because of Effie’s connections. She didn’t know with one hundred percent certainty what her mother was really doing and she suspected she didn’t want to know. Elindra wasn’t one of the good witches, she used her magic for her own benefits or against astronomical fees.

She worked hard to remain off the Council’s radar.

_“Oh, how terrible you make me sound.”_ her mother huffed. _“Can’t I be worried about how my youngest daughter is faring?”_  It was almost a rhetorical question at this point so Effie let it slide. _“Have you been appointed to her yet?”_

“I told you…” she sighed, her eyes roaming all over the place for the ashtray that she finally located on the coffee table next to the big red candle – where she had absolutely _not_ left it. She crushed what was left of the cigarette in it and moved to the bay windows. It was drizzling. “Haymitch Abernathy is her Watcher. I am simply here as… _reinforcement_ should they need it.”

And, she thought, watching the dark figure of the dead tree against the night sky, it was becoming very obvious they _didn’t_ need it.

It had been two weeks since they had all taken down that succubus together and she had never been called to _any_ meeting. She had thought she and Haymitch had reached an understanding but the sum of their exchanges since then amounted to gibes shot on either side of the coffee maker in the high school staff room. He wasn’t exactly avoiding her but he was skilled at deflecting her questions and she was reluctant to force his hand so soon. His Slayer, on the other hand, wasn’t shy about expressing her feelings. She glared at her every time their paths crossed in the hallways. Worse, perhaps, were the small sympathetic winces of a smile Peeta Mellark flashed her sometimes.

Although why the boy had been involved in the first place was still a mystery to her… Peeta was a nice enough young man but he had no hidden magical talents that she could perceive so she failed to see why Haymitch had found it pertinent to not only allow the secret to be divulged but to take him on a demon hunt…

There were _too many things_ she didn’t know.

When President Coin asked for a report, she told her everything was progressing fine. Katniss’ training, the reduction of the vampire population, the monitoring of the Hellmouth… The truth was she didn’t know for sure because she was being kept on the sidelines and there was only so much she could discern from a distance.

She resented Haymitch for putting her in a position where she had to resort to white lies but coming clean might mean being relieved of the mission and replaced by someone else. Someone who might not have the same scruples she had and who would snatch the Watcher position for themselves… She didn’t want to renounce that opportunity too soon. She wanted to keep it open.

_“In short, you failed to get promoted again.”_  her mother mocked. _“If I were you…”_

“I know what you would do if you were me.” Effie cut her off. One little spell here, another there… Everyone bewitched and under her thumb…

_“Do_ not _interrupt me. It is rude.”_  Elindra rebuked _. “Truly, one would expect that someone raised by an Englishman would know better.”_

“I did not call to discuss the Slayer or my career, Mother.” she reminded her, turning her back to the window. The ashtray wasn’t on the coffee table anymore.  “Can you help with my problem?”

_“This is child play, Euphemia.”_ Elindra complained. _“If you cannot do it right…”_

“I am _certain_ I did it right.” she argued, calmly walking back to the coffee table.

She kneeled in front of it and took in the various pots and vials full to the brim with herbs and powder. She made sure the flat bowl was clean before starting the spell again, detailing everything she did to her mother on the phone.

It _was_ child play and she didn’t understand _why_ the spell wasn’t working.

Everything was where it should be. The flat bowl in front of the red candle, the circle of herbs around it for protection… The preparation was simple and straightforward enough. The last thing to do was light the candle. She did it with the silver lighter Finnick had given her for her birthday a few years earlier and, for a second, she watched the flame dance, aware that the ashtray was now resting on the armchair when it had been right next to her little finger a second earlier.

“Psyche, goddess of the souls…” she whispered, feeling the familiar, if a little frightening still, swell of power inside her chest. “I beg you to come and find the one who is lost.” She closed her eyes, _focused_ … When she spoke, her voice was pure command, an order impossible not to heed. “ _Begone_.”

She opened her eyelids in time to see the candle snuff out.

She waited two breaths before sighing. “Well?”

_“Well. You followed the steps and, as far as I can tell, it seemed right to me.”_  her mother commented in a bored voice.

It was the tenth time Effie had performed that particular spell since she had moved into the hotel’s penthouse. Her lips pursed, she stood up and grabbed the ashtray to put it back in its rightful place. “I do _not_ understand why it does not stick! It is not my first ghost. What am I missing?”

It had started with little things: objects moving behind her back, almost inaudible murmurs in the dead of night, the prickling at the base of her nape telling her she was being watched, loud noises without causes… Typical signs of a haunting. She hadn’t panicked because most ghosts were not dangerous and she knew how to deal with them but this one seemed very resistant to exorcism. It went away for a couple of days and then came back with a vengeance. It had been harmless at first but the day before she had _barely_ missed a glass that had been hurled across the room in the direction of her head. Every time she banished the ghost to the beyond, it came back stronger.

“Power _, darling.”_  Elindra lamented. _“You are only an amateur, after all. Do not feel bad for failing. Perhaps you should find someone with more magical strength. I am certain they must_ abound _on the Hellmouth. What about that Watcher of yours? They form you all to the basic of magical arts, do they not?”_

Ask Haymitch for help? _Never_.

He _could_ probably banish a ghost just fine. It _wasn’t_ difficult, it didn’t ask for much power and the knowledge came in handy, but asking him would put her in a position of weakness when their relationship so far seemed to be all about confrontation. She needed to prove herself, her worth, not to call for help at the smallest difficulty. And a ghost? He would _laugh_ at her.

He had fought a Master vampire, had helped avert at least three major apocalypses, had killed more demons than most of the Watchers combined, had managed to keep four Slayers alive for more than three years when the current ratio of Slayers survival was of one year and a half on average…

She _wasn’t_ going to call him because she had a little ghost problem.

“I will manage.” she huffed.

_“Is he as attractive as they say?”_ her mother asked in a knowing voice. _“He_ does _have something of a reputation in some circles… I admit I am curious.”_

“He is old and he drinks too much.” she declared with, perhaps, a little too much strength. “ _And_ he would have died last week had I not saved his life. A fact he seems to have _conveniently_ forgotten. Which, I suppose, _also_ makes him ungrateful. No, Mother, he is _not_ attractive at all.”

She was being unfair, of course. She knew for a fact he was only five or six years older than she was, he would probably have managed to get out of the Succubus situation by himself or with Katniss’ help and he _had_ accepted to tolerate her presence when he could just as well have made a fuss so Coin would remove her.

She passed in the big bedroom and frowned at the rain that was now hitting the bay windows so hard it almost drowned her mother’s voice. The temperature had gotten lower too, enough that there was a chill in the air.

“ _Just as well.”_  Elindra hummed. _“You can do a lot better than_ a Watcher _.”_

Her mother sneered the word like it was an insult and Effie had to resist the urge to remind her that _she_ was a Watcher too. Although a low-ranking one.

Shivering, she continued on to the bathroom and ran herself a bath.

“How is Lyssa?” she asked, knowing her sister was a topic that would take them away from any potential source of conflict. If you excepted _Lyssa_ herself, of course. Effie had never really accepted the fact that she had been sent away when Lyssa had grown up with their parents.

She suffered her mother’s prattling for a while longer, humming and making the appropriate noises at the expected times, while she took her make-up off, lit candles all around the bathtub, studied the room service menu and, finally, undressed and slipped into the blissfully warm water.

It was fifteen more minutes before she managed to hang up.

She washed her hair quickly and then sank deeper into the bath, letting herself soak for a while. It was so cold out of the water that she suspected there must have been a problem with the heating system. She would ask the reception to send someone up when she would order a late dinner.

There _were_ advantages to living in a hotel, after all.

She scooped a handful of bubble baths and made the foam dance in the air, forcing her mind to focus, stretching her magic like a sixth sense to control the delicate matter and shift it into whimsical shapes… A bird, a cat, a plane… It was easy. A little too easy. Basic training. She let the foam fall back in the water and pouted.

Exorcising a ghost should have been easy too so it begged the question: why did it keep coming back? It hadn’t been hostile at first but the more she attempted to get rid of it, the worse it seemed to get…

_Should_ she consult Haymitch?

Perhaps, it would help bridge the gap if she sought his help. Some men liked that: defenseless women asking for their wisdom… She hadn’t been shy of employing that very tactic on other Council members… He certainly didn’t seem to mind her batting her eyelashes at him or flashing him seductive smiles… But, then again, _that_ particular tactic always worked on men who weren’t interested in looking past her good looks.

And Haymitch was _very_ partial to her good looks.

She might have followed that road if she hadn’t been so sure it wouldn’t lead down a rabbit hole…

She liked sex.

She _loved_ sex, she corrected for herself, twirling her finger to make water swirl in the air.

She had used sex as a weapon before, it didn’t bother her. Her body was a tool, that much had been hammered into her head since she had been thirteen… Of course, Caesar hadn’t meant it _that_ way but she had found it a truly efficient one. Her beauty made people fools as surely as her mother’s controlling spells… She had used that to her advantage plenty of times. _The escort_ , some mean-spirited boys in her class had nicknamed her. She didn’t care. She got the job done and the Council’s directors never asked how she had done it.

Haymitch now…

Simply remembering the interlude in his classroom before the succubus’ attack made her hot and that in itself might be dangerous.

She might have had a small crush to begin with.

She had never seen him before Plutarch had introduced them, naturally, but she had _read_ about him. She had read Mags’ journals, both the one she had kept during Iris Abernathy’s run as a Slayer and the one she had dedicated to Mabel Larson. By the time Effie had discovered his existence, he was watching over his second slayer, Alina Graves. She had read every journal he had kept about his _protégées_. He was laconic in his writing, stuck to the hard facts and rarely if ever let anything personal slip through. The handwriting alone seemed to express his reluctance to record anything on paper…

It was the enigma of him who had pushed her to approach Mags, to ask for explanations as to how someone so young, an outsider to the Council and its secular lines of Watchers, could have been given an active Slayer. That’s how Mags had started mentoring her like she often mentored young Watchers, that’s how they had become _friends_ …

The stories Mags would tell… The rumors that were whispered around the Council building… The anecdotes Caesar would consent to disclose from mission reports not privy to anyone’s eyes but the board of directors…

She had built such an image in her mind that he had slowly become something of a fantasy she had turned to when she had been lonely – and while she was rarely alone because she had a gift for making friends wherever she went, being _lonely_ had always been something of a problem. It had varied from scenarios where they would meet on a mission abroad and he would recognize her superior skills as a Watcher and made sure she was rewarded for her work by the Council to scenarios of a more… sexual nature. To be honest, even the first category had tended to end up with the latter.

She hadn’t been able to help herself. He was _a hero_.

And he could have been her Watcher if the circumstances had been right and if she had been called. That was a particular fantasy of hers she had liked to visit more times than she cared to count.

All in all, the infatuation had been harmless before she had met him but now it was turning into something awkward and pathetic.

The water that was gently floating in front of her face turned to ice.

Besides, he might have been a hero but he was also a _jerk_. She had been _disappointed_. Rude, coarse, the flask he didn’t do such a good job at hiding, the not so steady hands, the lack of professionalism… His refusal to admit she could be useful…

He _was_ handsome though. And it would have been easier if she could claim he wasn’t _still_ featuring in her fantasies. It was even worse now, perhaps, because she had intimate knowledge of the way he kissed. She knew how his tongue would poke her bottom lip, she knew how his calloused palms would feel over her skin, she knew how he would lift her up and…

It was _so_ easy for her mind to continue the memory of their time in the classroom, to imagine what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by that scream…

She had wanted it _so badly_ , then… She had known it was wrong, that there was a chance he was simply affected by the succubus’ pheromones, but she hadn’t been able to resist his mouth or his hands or _his voice_ …

And he had simply been trying to seduce her into revealing herself as a sex demon… Or so he claimed.

She wasn’t sure.

She didn’t know.

She _did_ know she didn’t want to call him because she couldn’t get rid of a simple ghost. She wouldn’t show herself to be incompetent.

With a grunt of frustration she dissipated the shards of ice floating in the air and stood up. The bath had turned cold and she wasn’t anywhere near relaxed. Of course, the lukewarm water seemed _warm_ compared to the chill in the air.

Was it _frost_ on the mirror?

She had one leg over the edge of the tub when she felt something _pull_ on the ankle that was still in the water. She instinctively angled her fall forward rather than backwards, knowing it would hurt but that it would hurt less than potentially drowning. The side of the bathtub dug into her ribs but she held on to it for dear life even as she felt her lower body being dragged deeper into the tub.

“Psyche, goddess of souls. I beg you to come and find the one who is lost.” she said in a hurry. “Begone.”

For a second, nothing changed except for her slippery grip on the edge of the tub. Her chin was inches away from the water edge when the scented candles she had scattered around the room abruptly snuffed out. She felt the pressure around her leg loosen and she immediately hauled herself out of the bathtub without much grace or elegance. She lowered herself on the floor, shaking. She snatched the towel from the rack and wrapped herself in it, aware the chill in the air hadn’t disappeared and that it was _definitely_ not natural.

Goosebumps ran down her whole body…

The door to the bathroom slammed shut and she licked her lips, considering her options.

“Psyche, goddess of souls…” she started again.

The mirror blew.

“Protect!” she screamed, instinctively lifting her arms to shield her face. The magical barrier stopped the shards but it didn’t reassure Effie much or long.

She grabbed one of the biggest broken pieces of glass and didn’t let herself hesitate when she sliced her palm open. The door was now slamming open and closed, frost was running up the walls, slowly but surely turning the bathroom into a freezer… She traced a pentagram on the floor with her blood and kneeled at the center, chanting the spell under her breath. She felt it lock into place just as objects started flying all over the bathroom, mainly aimed at her. They crashed on the magical shield the pentagram offered.

“In the goddess’ name, I command thee…” she hissed. “ _Reveal yourself_.”

She had expected a human shape to appear, the ghost materializing maybe…

She hadn’t expected the shift of mystical energy she felt deep into the building’s foundation. It was strong enough to suck the breath out of her lungs.

_Oh…_

_Oh, stupid._

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

She hadn’t been exorcising _the same ghost_ over and over again… It had been _different_ ghosts. Something was holding souls prisoner and they had probably been pouring out one at a time through a tiny leak. Minor haunting symptoms… She had been exorcising ghosts since she had arrived. And whatever it was that had been hoarding souls, it wasn’t happy about her tearing her toys away from it…

Well, she thought, her teeth chattering, now she didn’t have much choice about calling Haymitch or not calling Haymitch… She needed the Slayer.

Assuming, of course, that she didn’t die of hypothermia before he could launch a rescue.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Gale felt like a stalker.

He had been watching Katniss slip out of her mother’s trailer every night from his bedroom’s window for the past week. Sometimes Mellark picked her up, sometimes it was Abernathy on his bike, sometimes she just walked away by herself… She always had her bow and her quiver flung over her shoulder…

He had tried to ask her about it. He had tried to ask nicely. He had tried to _demand_ answers. He had tried to sweet talk Prim into telling him what she knew. He had tried to get _Rory_ to see what _Prim_ knew. He had tried questioning Madge. He had tried going to Heavensbee because _surely_ a teacher picking her up late at night was against the rules. In short, Gale had tried _everything_ to figure out what had happened to his best friend a little over a month earlier to make her so… _weird_.

So, that night, when he had understood it was one of those nights she would be leaving on foot, he had slipped out of his trailer and had followed after her at a distance despite the drizzle.

And he felt like a stalker.

When she led him all the way to the cemetery gates, he was surprised. He knew her father was buried there. His was too, not too far from Mr Everdeen’s grave. But she hardly ever went to the cemetery in daylight, so _at night_? And with _her bow?_

It was easier to sneak after her in the graveyard than it had been along the paved streets lined with streetlamps that tossed pools of light on the pavement in which the rain danced like in one of those old movies. He only had to hide behind the big vaults that lined the path she was walking on – a path that led to the _very old_ area of the cemetery and was at the very opposite of the plot where their fathers were buried.

At some point, he accidentally kicked a pebble and she whirled around, an arrow nocked, her eyes scanning the surrounding darkness… Gale stood perfectly still and held his breath, hidden in the shadow of a decrepit vault with a very ugly cherub on top. His hair was plastered to his nape by the drizzle that was more irritating than real rain would be. He couldn’t even wipe his eyes.

The standout lasted for what felt like forever. Then, she scowled and started walking again. She didn’t shoulder back her bow.

It didn’t feel like she knew where she was going, she hesitated when the path forked into two narrow alleys but she finally turned right, selecting the muddiest path.

_What the hell was she doing?_

He got his answer five minutes later when she abruptly stopped in front of a vault which doors had been broken open. He didn’t pay much attention to it because vandalism in the cemetery was so common in the Seam even newspapers had stopped reporting it.

“Next time, draw me a map.” she grumbled.

For one terrible second, Gale thought he had been caught even if her words didn’t make any sense. She would be _furious,_ of course, but he was just trying to understand, to _protect_ her because…

“Took your _sweet_ time.” Abernathy answered, hauling himself out of the vault, covered in dust and grime.

“Mom was up.” Katniss dismissed. “It’s one of these days she felt like _doing stuff_. She cooked a dozen pancakes for dinner. I couldn’t leave Prim alone to deal with her.”  She waved her bow in the air, betraying her annoyance. “Did you find it?”

“We found dust, bones, more dust and a couple of rats.” Mellark declared, suddenly walking up the steps and out of the vault as if it was perfectly natural to do so. For whatever reason, he was equipped with two big water guns. They were dangling from his belt as if he was still young enough to play cowboys and Indians – and as if the weather was cooperating. “No amulet yet though.”

They both stood in the relative shelter of the vault, leaving Katniss under the rain but she didn’t seem to really care.

“There are still two tombs to go.” Abernathy mocked. “I say it’s Katniss’ turn.”

_Grave robbers_.

They were…

Saying Gale was shocked and disturbed was an understatement. He had wondered where she had been finding the money lately… She claimed to be doing odd jobs for Abernathy but _this_? This was _sickening_. He had _known_ there was something _not right_ about this whole job affair, about _this teacher_.

He didn’t know where Mellark featured in all this because Mellark, as much as he didn’t like the other boy, was by all accounts _a good guy_. He got straight As, he didn’t bully anyone, he didn’t flaunt his money in anyone’s face and he was the kind of person who would offer to give you a ride when he found you stranded on a deserted road somewhere – even if you hated his guts.

Gale had always known there was very little Katniss wouldn’t do out of necessity when her sister was concerned and, while he was disturbed, he wasn’t _entirely_ surprised she would find herself on the wrong side of the law yet again – _hell_ , he had been there before too, they had started shoplifting at the same time to feed their families. Mellark, though… It puzzled him.

Although… Should it?

He watched Abernathy good-naturedly pat Mellark’s shoulder and chuckle when the boy wiped cobwebs off his arm with a disgusted face.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to tag along.” the teacher reminded him. “This job ain’t one where you can stay clean, kid.”

Something was deeply _wrong_ with that man.

Never mind the fact that the teacher didn’t seem to like him much – because, after all, he had been to the principal several times to accuse him of being too familiar with a student – or that his own mother seemed to like him _too much_ and had lectured him at lengths about making defamatory accusations about someone who, by all accounts, was actually _helping_ the Everdeen girls. Every time Gale met his eyes, he couldn’t help but _shudder_. They weren’t quite _empty_ but there was a darkness there. He knew _in his guts_ the guy was dangerous and he had tried to warn Katniss. The fact that she refused to listen bugged him. The lie about him being a family friend was a slap in the face.

He _knew_ the Everdeens didn’t have any family friend named Haymitch Abernathy. He had known them all his life. He would have heard about him before.

And never mind the things he had found out…

“You watch, I slay.” Katniss retorted. “I’m pretty sure that means, you’re the one who has to dig into old dusty tombs while I protect your ass. You’ve seen any vampires yet? I thought I heard something earlier but I didn’t feel anything. It seems too calm though.”

_Vampires?_

Gale slowly crouched, careful not to make _any_ noise, thinking he must have heard her wrong.

“We didn’t see any.” Mellark shook his head. “I was just asking Haymitch if he was sure this was the right place.”

“That’s what Ripper said.” Abernathy shrugged, fishing a silver flask from his pants pocket. Ignoring both Mellark and Katniss’ disapproving looks, he took a swing.

“What were you doing in a demon’s bar in the first place?” Katniss asked, planting her hands on her hips. Her stance growing even more disapproving.

Abernathy seemed to hesitate then, almost reluctantly, he put the flask back in his pocket. “I wanted  a drink. And I’m allowed to catch up with old friends, am I?”

“Ripper’s a demon.” she argued.

_Demons_? _Vampires?_

Could it be gangs? He knew there were a couple downtown. It was hard to ignore the drug circulating around the trailer park and behind the bleachers at school but he had never really taken an interest aside from warning his brothers he would skin them alive if he found out they ever touched the stuff…

“Ripper’s a half-breed and she has her uses.”  Abernathy impatiently corrected. “Besides, her intel is usually good. If she says a vampire cult wants to use this amulet to bring an old god through, chances are good she’s right.”

“Is an old god as bad as it sounds?” Mellark asked. “’Cause it sounds worse than a succubus.”

“It’s worse.” Abernathy shrugged. “It’s a very huge demon. Usually worshipped by minor demons. Usually clever. Usually wants to take over the world. Easier on all fronts if we destroy the amulet first.”

“You don’t seem very worried.” Katniss pointed out.

“Ripper said those vampires were amateurs.” he dismissed. “Fledglings who want to play in the big kiddies pool.”

“So we’re sure it’s not the Careers?” she insisted.

“Like I said. Ripper’s intel is usually good.” Abernathy sighed. “She likes it when I don’t destroy her bar so she tries to stay on my good side… Now, who’s gonna search the two last tombs? ‘Cause I’ve already done two. Ain’t fair.” He was treated to two identical neutral looks and rolled his eyes. “ _Fine,_ but you two _owe_ me. I expect pastries and a nice bottle of whiskey.”

Gale was completely lost and very tempted to think they had all grown mad. Maybe Abernathy had swept Katniss and Mellark into his psychosis. Unless they were talking in code.

“What’s with the water guns?” she asked Mellark, once Abernathy had disappeared back into the vault. Or was it a crypt? It looked bigger than it appeared at first glance and there were stairs that disappeared in the darkness, like maybe it was going deep into the ground.

“Holy water.” Mellark grinned, lifting both guns in the air. “It won’t kill them but it might slow them down enough that I can stake them.”

_What the hell?_

Katniss didn’t look very impressed. “Just stay safe. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Always.” the boy promised, still grinning. “Did Haymitch tell you we get to do magic next? Apparently, the amulet needs to be destroyed with holy fire or something…”

Katniss made  face. “Are we getting Trinket?”

_Trinket?_ How many teachers were in on this thing? He had troubles imagining the pretty Art teacher being part of _a gang_ …

And what was that about _magic_?

Unless _magic_ was some sort of drugs?

What if it _wasn’t_ a gang? What if it was a _sect_ or something like that?

“No, he said it wasn’t hard and he could handle it.” Mellark answered. “We get to help.”

“Yeah, right!” Abernathy’s voice echoed from down the vault, entirely mocking. “You want to help with the magic but you don’t wanna help with the grave digging! I see how it is!”

Mellark and Katniss both looked amused.

“He’s in a fine mood.” she commented.

“He _did_ go to a demon bar.” the boy shrugged. “Apparently, they’ve got the good stuff.”

This was _madness_ …

Then, out of nowhere, Katniss tensed and whirled around, her bow at the ready. “Incoming!”

Gale didn’t spot the men until they were already upon Katniss and Mellark, they moved so fast his eye could barely follow. There were seven – eight? – of them and, before he could _think_ about moving, about _helping_ , Katniss had let an arrow loose and one of them had fallen. They had masks on their faces. _Demon_ masks.

Mellark shot a spray of water at one of them and the guy crumpled on the ground, smoke rising above him, screaming in pain. Abernathy came rushing out, pieces of wood in each hands…

Gale searched for Katniss because the two others… He didn’t care if they lived or died. Well… He might care a little about Mellark because the boy clearly was in too deep in the same _whatever_ Katniss had been drawn in but he certainly wouldn’t cry over Abernathy if he got slaughtered by a rival gang.

He spotted her on top of one of the vaults’ roof. How she had gotten there when she had been on the ground two seconds earlier he wasn’t sure but she was shooting arrow after arrow while Abernathy and Mellark fought them hands on…

_She was going to kill someone_.

The guy she had shot earlier… He hadn’t stood up again. However, Gale couldn’t spot his body either so maybe he had just run away… Maybe it wasn’t too late…

_She was going to kill someone_ and that wasn’t something she could ever come back from. Shop lifting, grave robbing… Those were petty crimes but _murder?_

He reacted instinctively.

It took him a lot of efforts to quickly haul himself on top of that roof without slipping and breaking his neck but when he _succeeded_  he _immediately_ tackled her, disrupting her aim before another of those guys could get hit. He heard the pained grunt below and Mellark’s panicked “ _Haymitch!”_  but had other problems, like trying to keep Katniss still.

She was strong though.

_Far_ stronger than he had ever suspected.

She hit him in the stomach with the flat of her palm and it sucked the air right out of his lungs. She took advantage of that to flip them over and lifted her arm high in the air. He saw the stab coming down, saw the pointy piece of wood in her hand – the stake – and had only time to think, wide eyes and scared expression on his face, that she _really_ believed the vampire thing…

And also, maybe, that it really wasn’t what he had had in mind the few times he had let himself think about what it would be like for her to straddle him…

The stake stopped inches away from his chest.

Recognition flashed on her face and then _betrayal_.

“Katniss!” Abernathy bellowed “Get your ass down here! They’ve got the amulet!”

She bolted off him and off that roof as if it was _nothing_ , as if the jump wouldn’t have broken someone else’s leg. He could only roll on his stomach and watch as she landed on one of the demon-masked guys – the one Abernathy and Mellark had been fighting together – and stabbed him in the heart.

The man exploded in a cloud of dust.

Gale rubbed his eyes, certain something was wrong with his sight.

Katniss ran off in hot pursuit of the four others who had fled shouting to each other about a Slayer – whatever _that_ meant.

“You’re okay?” Abernathy asked Mellark, outstretching a hand to help him up from the ground where he had fallen. they were both muddy.

“Yeah.” the boy said, wiping himself off. “I got one! And I didn’t miss the heart, this time. Did you see?”

“Sorry, kid. I was a bit too busy _not_ getting bitten.” the teacher scoffed, looking at the roof where Gale was still lying down. Gale wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to admit it but he thought Katniss might have bruised a rib. Not that Abernathy looked sympathetic to any possible injury. “Get down here, boy. You’re gonna be sorry if you make me chase you up.”

Gale scowled at the threat and ignored Mellark’s startled face when the other kid finally spotted him. He did get down because there was no point staying up there and he was confident he could hold his own against a middle-aged man who abused liquor. He did it slowly and carefully, though, still not sure how Katniss had managed the jump without breaking or straining anything.

Abernathy was still glaring at him when he lowered himself to the ground but it was fine with him, he was glaring right back.

“How did _you_ get roped into this?” he spat at Mellark because out of the two, Mellark was the sensible one.

The other teenager frowned. “To help Katniss, of course.”

_Of course_. Abernathy had used Mellark’s obvious crush on Katniss to get another disciple in whatever weird sect he was orchestrating…

Katniss, who came jogging back, an angry scorn on her face. Her grey eyes briefly stopped on him and they were icy cold before moving to the teacher and the other boy. She studied them attentively. “No one’s hurt?”

“Scrapes and mud.” Abernathy dismissed. “The amulet.”

She shook her head. “I caught one but he didn’t have it. The others disappeared.”

“Great.” the teacher snapped. “Guess who are the amateurs now?” He whirled around toward Gale. “And what were _you_ doing here?”

“And _why_ did you knock me off when I was about to shoot?” she hissed. “I could have killed Peeta!”

Mellark winced. “It’s okay, the arrow just grazed me.”

“Yeah but it gave the one you were fighting the edge it needed.” Abernathy growled, glowering at Gale. “It could have killed you.”

Gale was utterly done with their _bullshit_. He strode to Katniss and grabbed her arm, intending to take her home and give her an earful on the way. She remained rooted to the spot as if she was made of stone. When she shrugged his hand off, he felt it right up his shoulder.

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Katniss!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go home before you get yourself into even more troubles!”

“Troubles?” she snarled. “Because of you there might be a huge demon on the loose before dawn!”

Abernathy coughed in a very unconvincing way. “Rule two.” 

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on… He saw the vampires. He saw them turning to dust. _Whatever_.”

“Those guys weren’t vampires.” Gale objected, grabbing her arm again. She was crazy. Deep into whatever _bullshit_ they had told her. And with her mother… There were _antecedents…_ Maybe… “Vampires _don’t_ exist.”

“Denial 101.” Abernathy snorted. “Right. No. There ain’t any vampires. Whatever you think you saw today, it was a trick of the eyes. Those guys were just grave robbers and we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, run along home, kid.”

Each of his sentences was dripping with sarcasm.

“Is _that_ how you usually convince people?” Mellark deadpanned. “Let me tell you, it needs work.”

“Vampires _are_ real.” Katniss stubbornly argued, shrugging him off again. “I am the Chosen One, which means I’m the one girl in all the world who can fight them.”

He waited a second for the laugh or the _“got you”_ all the while knowing she wasn’t the one for jokes.

“You’re delusional.” he said, reaching for her for the third time.

She took one step back. “Grab me again and I will break your wrist. Best friend or not.”

He ignored the empty threat and lifted both hands in front of him. “Katniss. _Catnip_. Vampires _aren’t_ real. You’re nothing _special_.” He paused and then shook his head. “No, you’re _plenty_ special but not… not because you were chosen to fight monsters or…” He licked his lips and shot a glare at Abernathy, his hands bundling into fists. “Did _he_ tell you all that?”

“He’s my Watcher.” she explained matter-of-factly. “He’s here to mentor me.”

“For the good it does since you _never_ listen.” Abernathy grumbled. “Fine. You don’t want to follow rule two and shout it from the rooftops, go ahead, but do it on your own time. We need to find those vampires before they manage to accidentally kick start a _fucking_ apocalypse.”

The man took two steps in the vague direction the vampires had taken and both Katniss and Mellark looked ready to follow without question. It only took a sidestep for Gale to block his path.

“What did you do to her? I don’t know what weird stuff you’re into but I swear if you _touched_ her…” he growled.

Abernathy scowled. “I’m growing _real_ tired of that particular accusation, kid…”

“Do you even know _who_ he really is?” he challenged Katniss. Her face was blank so he turned to Mellark. “He’s a _fucking_ serial killer!” The teacher scoffed but Gale didn’t let that stop him. With a hint of despair, because he could see he wasn’t getting to either teenager, he continued. “When he was sixteen, he was arrested for the murder of his girlfriend.”

Abernathy froze. “Do _not_ go there, boy.”

He ignored the warning. “They released him because they didn’t have enough evidence and he had a hot shot English lawyer but the police was _convinced_ it was him.”

“Your girlfriend…” Katniss whispered with a frown. It sounded like an unvoiced question.

“ _Yeah_.” Abernathy commented, his face twisting with pain. He pulled the flask from his front pocket and took a long gulp. “Let’s go before I kill _this_ idiot.”

“She wasn’t the first one.” Gale continued in a rush. Katniss looked sad and Mellark had a thoughtful look on his face. Maybe he was finally getting to them. “His brother… Well, I’m not sure he was really his brother… The police couldn’t tell. His mom was a kid when she had _him_ and she died young. But there was another baby registered under his mom’s name… _Whatever_. His brother disappeared one year before he murdered his girl. No trace anywhere. When she died they thought maybe he had killed him too.” Abernathy’s jaw clenched and, next thing Gale knew, there was a knife in his hand, a big hunting knife. He should have been scared maybe but he could only shoot Katniss a look of triumph at the proof that he was crazy. “I guess he liked killing helpless girls better though because after the police was forced to release him, he disappeared. A few years later he got a degree in London and he came back here, got close to a local high school girl. Four years later, she was found dead with her throat ripped out. And it doesn’t stop there… There was a girl in San Francisco two years after. And three more since then.” He took a challenging step toward their teacher. “That _sure_ makes a lot of dead teenagers for one creepy guy.”

“Yeah.” Abernathy snorted bitterly, fingers gripping the handle of his knife so tight his knuckles had turned white. “It _sure_ does.” 

“I’m sorry.” Katniss offered.

Gale turned to her, ready to tell her it was alright, that they could forget the last month and a half, _move on_ , that he would help… But she wasn’t looking at _him_.

After all he had just told her, she was looking at their teacher and she looked _sad_.

“Save it.” Abernathy muttered. “Get rid of him. We need to…” A cheerful tune rang out in the otherwise silent cemetery and the man turned to glare at Mellark. “What did I say about messing with my phone?”

“You said to get your new one to work because you couldn’t do it yourself.” the other boy shrugged innocently. “I thought you’d like having personalized ringtones for everyone in the team so you’d know who’s calling. Katniss has the _Brave_ theme and I picked _Scooby Doo_ for myself.”

Abernathy took his phone out of his pocket but didn’t bother looking at the screen. “Don’t tell me who _Bewitched_ is for. I can take _a wild guess_.”

Gale exchanged a glance with Katniss. Both because he had no clue what _Bewitched_ was and because there had gone from a tension thick enough to be cut with a knife to something a little less… intense.

“I’m busy, sweetheart.” Abernathy said. It was an original way of answering the phone. He was silent for a moment and then rubbed his eyes. “ _How much_ trouble? Cause on the trouble scale, I’m at _a-vampire-cult-invocating-an-old-one_ level. Wait, what’s that noise? Is that _your teeth_? _Shit_ , okay, okay…  How long can you hold on? Yeah, well, _no, obviously_ I ain’t gonna let them bring an ancient demon on Earth _just_ to save your ass. It’s pretty but it ain’t _that_ pretty.” Whatever was said on the other end of the line, it made him smirk. “Don’t act like those tight skirts ain’t made to be noticed. Okay. _Okay._ Hang on. We’ll be around as soon as possible.”

“Is Miss Trinket in trouble?” Mellark asked once Abernathy had hung up.

“Major one, sounds like.” the teacher grunted. “Guess it’s a night for slaying. Katniss, we need to get rid of those vampires and go to _The Capitol_ as fast as possible. I’m not sure how long Trinket can hold on without backup.”

Katniss frowned. “Then, go to _The Capitol_. I’ll take care of the vampires.”

Abernathy looked torn. “I ain’t letting you go into a nest alone.” Mellark coughed and he rolled his eyes. “I mean without _proper_ backup.”

“Did you listen to a word I just said?” Gale growled when he understood Katniss was _still_ believing all that craziness. “He’s a…”

“He’s _my friend_.” she cut him off, shooting him a glare. “And you should trust me more.”

“I don’t even know how he can still be a teacher when it took me _ten minutes_ to find out everything about him!” he retorted. “I tried to tell Heavensbee…”

“Must be my charming personality.” Abernathy taunted. “Or maybe the fact that I’ve been cleared of all charges… Or, _maybe_ , ‘cause I found time to get a degree between my serial killing.”

“You’ve got _money_.” Gale sneered. “And money…”

“Makes the world go round.” the teacher deadpanned, dismissing him to turn to Katniss. “They’re gonna want an abandoned church for this ritual. Something holy but no longer sacred so they can get in…”

“The ruins not far from the woods on the other side of the highway.” Mellark suggested immediately. “It used to be a church and it’s the closest.”

“Yeah.” Abernathy nodded. “Okay. Let’s try that one. If they’re not there, we hit Ripper’s bar. And if we’ve still got nothing… We swing by _the Capitol_ , save Trinket and then we try to stop whatever’s left, vampires or big demon.” 

“Go get Trinket.” Katniss insisted. “We can handle the vampires.”

“Can we?” Mellark asked, sounding a bit unsure. “I’m with you, you know that, but Haymitch has a point… I won’t be as much help as he would.”

“Gale can cover us.” she declared.

“What?” Gale asked, at the same time as Mellark and Abernathy.

She didn’t seem bothered by their combined incredulity.

“He shoots as well as I do.” She shrugged. “He’ll take the bow and clear out the fray for me. Peeta, what do you have in your truck?”

“Stakes, an axe and…” Mellark frowned and tossed an inquisitive look at Abernathy. “Did you leave a sword in there?”

“See?” Katniss told the teacher. “We’ve got weapons. We’ll be fine. Go help Trinket. I don’t like her but we _said_ we’d do better, Haymitch.  Nobody’s dying tonight.”

Abernathy watched her for long seconds and then gave a reluctant nod, his face grim. “Stay alive.” He tossed Mellark a look while he picked up the helmet he must have placed on the ground inside the vault earlier. “ _Both_ of you. I’ll come and help as soon as I can. If they manage to get the demon through… _Run_. You’re not trained enough yet.” He winced. “Best thing would be to kill them all _before_ it gets that far though.”

“Don’t let the vampires invocate the demon.” Mellark summed up. “Noted.”

“You’re _all_ crazy.” Gale accused. “ _All_ of you.”

None of them even blinked at that particular accusation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo Gale is now in the known - or is he? Do you think he will end up seeing the truth or will he continue denying? What does that mean for Peeta's place in the group? Can they stop the vampire cult without Haymitch? Can Haymitch get to the Capitol in time to save Effie? Will he survive for that comment about her tight skirts? Let me know your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Gale didn’t know why he had climbed in the back of Mellark’s truck.

Well, yeah, he knew. He still hoped he could reason with them, all the more so now that Abernathy had disappeared on his bike in the opposite direction, probably to answer the weirdest booty call ever.

But now they were driving a little too fast in the direction of an old church in ruins to stop a vampire cult from bringing an old demon god on Earth and Katniss had been ranting instructions at both him and Mellark nonstop.

“Katniss.” he finally snapped and cut her off. “Katniss, please, _tell me_ , you _know_ this is all in your head. A game or…”

“You saw the vampire turn to dust.” she retorted, rolling her eyes as if he was being particularly difficult on purpose.

He looked at Mellark but the boy’s jaw was set and he was staring at the road ahead. It stretched in the headlights, blurry because of the downpour that had replaced the small drizzle, not the best conditions for driving and he knew that, soon, they would arrive and _then_ … He unbuckled the safety belt and scooted closer until he filled the space between the front seats.

“I don’t know what I saw but it wasn’t _that_.” he insisted. “Katniss, this guy… Abernathy… He’s a psycho. He’s a _killer_.” He only needed thirty minutes in the school library and _Google_ to figure out that much. “He’s been filling your mind with…” He sighed and grabbed Mellark’s shoulder. The boy startled and the car swerved a little before he got it back straight. “ _You_ can’t believe this shit, Mellark. _Peeta_. You’re a straight A student. You _can’t_ believe in _monsters_.” 

“I’ve seen the monsters.” Mellark answered after a moment. “And I know it’s difficult to believe…”

“It didn’t take _you_ that long.” Katniss muttered.

“But it’s true.” the boy continued, ignoring her. “Everything she told you, it’s _true_. And Haymitch isn’t a killer, Gale. Not the way you mean it.” He shot an inquisitive glance at Katniss. “Did you know about his girlfriend?”

Katniss shook her head. “No. I told you I thought his mother was a Slayer but he never told me about his girlfriend… He did say he had known two Slayers before he became a Watcher though. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It’s terrible.” Mellark answered. “I can’t imagine…”

“That he murdered his girl and probably a dozen others more than the ones I found out about?” Gale deadpanned. Not that either of them really cared.

“They were killed by vampires or demons, Gale.” Katniss sighed. “Slayers don’t usually live long.”

“Is that what Abernathy said?” he snorted. “Probably makes it easier for you to swallow when he actually kills you.”

Katniss had apparently had enough. She popped off her safety belt too and spun on her seat to better glare at him. “If you don’t believe me and you don’t want to come, you can get out now. Peeta, stop the car.”

“Keep driving.” he growled in answer. “I’m not leaving you to go face a gang by yourself so you can get yourself killed.”

“It’s _not_ a gang.”  Katniss hissed. “It’s a _vampire cult_. What do I have to do to convince…”

Mellark abruptly swerved with a curse to avoid the woman standing in the middle of the deserted road that crossed the woods. Gale was flung to the side.

He wasn’t sure how the other boy didn’t _completely_ destroy the car but he must have lost control of it because next thing he knew, they were _gliding_. Right until the side of the truck slammed hard into a tree. His head bounced back against the door and he remained slumped on the backseat, stunned.

The door that wasn’t wrapped around a tree was ripped open. _Ripped open_.

The woman Mellark had tried to avoid hitting was standing there, one of those weird demon masks on her face. Maybe it was make-up, he decided, because it looked too… _real_. But when would she had found the time to do her make-up between the moment she had been on the road and the crash? He had only seen a glimpse of her and rain had been pouring down but he was pretty sure her face had been… _normal._

Her hand closed on his ankle and she _pulled_ …

He was a heavy boy. He was tall and muscular. He hadn’t expected to move but, not unlike Katniss, she was stronger than she looked and she dragged him out of the car as if he weighed nothing. Once she had him out, she grabbed his hair and forced his head back… He tried to push her away but his ears were ringing and he was still half knocked-out from having hit his head.

The fangs that pierced his neck were a hard wake-up call though.

Even worse when they were ripped away from his throat.

Mellark had her in a headlock, his forearm tight against her throat… Anyone else would have suffocated in minutes but the woman showed no sign of missing oxygen and the other boy was starting to _really_ struggle to hold her back as she tried to claw herself free. She left deep scratches on Mellark’s cheek. 

“Stake her! Stake her!” he shouted as if that made any sense.

And then, out of nowhere a shadow fell on them. Dripping from the rain, standing taller than he had ever seen her, twirling a sword in her hand like others would have played with a pen.

“Drop her.” Katniss ordered.

And Mellark did. No question asked.

The woman tried to turn on her but it was already too late. The sword came down and her head flew off.

Gale crawled back against the side of the truck, only stopping when he felt the open door at his back, staring at the spot the woman had fallen. There should have been blood and gore and probably a head because beheaded people _tended_ to bleed and miss a head…

There was nothing.

Nothing but dust in the wind.

“What…” he started. It didn’t make sense. _Nothing_ made sense.

“Vampire.” Mellark said, a little short of breath. “She must have been on look-out.”

“Are you alright?” Katniss crouched next to him. She impatiently tossed her wet braid over her shoulder and then she touched his neck… “I don’t think it’s very deep. Did she drink?”

“I don’t think she had time.” Mellark denied. “I got there pretty quick.”

He was bleeding, Gale realized. Because that woman… that _thing_ had bitten him hard enough to draw blood. Maybe they were all delusional. Maybe those people thought they were vampires the same way Katniss believed she was some sort of vampire hunter.

But then again… That woman had turned into _dust_.

“I’m fine.” he mumbled, leaning into the hand she had moved to his cheek.

“I hate to interrupt.” Mellark cut in – and, given the closed expression on his face, Gale doubted he hated to interrupt _at all_. “But… we’re on a clock here.”

Katniss darkened a little and slowly stood back up. She had been on the wrong side of the car and not buckled up either, she moved a little stiffly and there was blood down her face, although the rain was quickly washing it out.

“Are you okay?” Mellark worried, once he realized.

“We have an apocalypse to stop.” she hissed for only answer.

°O°O°O°O°O°

Effie had never been so cold in her life.

Her hands and feet were going numb despite the warming spells she had casted and the protection the pentacle offered. She was hugging herself, still kneeling on the cold tiles, there were crystals of ice in her air and the towel felt stiff and scratchy around her body Frost had crept over everything in the room. The water in the tub was frozen thick. Her breath came out in white puffs in front of her face.

How long would it take Katniss to dispatch the vampires and stop an old god from materializing?

_Too long_ , the voice kept murmuring in her head, _entirely too long_.

She was going to die in that bathroom if she didn’t try to do _something_. But leaving the pentacle meant exposing herself to more physical attacks and she was _defenseless_.

She forced herself to uncurl, placed her hands flat on the floor, ignoring the dull throbbing in her sliced palm. This would have worked better if she had been on the ground floor or, even better, _outside_ , but needs must. She closed her eyes, willed her teeth to stop chattering long enough that she could _focus_ …

How many times had Caesar tried to teach her how to go into a trance? It was a sought-after training combat method, something about warriors needing to become one with oneself, to embrace the peace that could only come from within or something equally new-age. New age martial techniques hadn’t been in fashion when she had been a teenager and she had never bothered to learn how to master that particular skill later on. Meditating, for her, had always amounted to making mental lists of the shoes and clothes she wished to buy.

According to her mother, it was another reason she was so bad at magic. A true witch needed to know how to control her mind, harness her own power and forge it into a weapon.

 She supposed the fact Caesar and Elindra were in agreement on something should have been enough to make her revise her judgment. She certainly regretted not being more proficient at it now.

Clearing one’s mind when you were about to die was a lot more difficult than it seemed.

She tried to focus on her breathing like Caesar had droned on and on about when she had been fifteen but she couldn’t ignore the shivers and the uncontrollable chattering of her teeth. In the end, she did the reckless thing and _dove within_ …

She didn’t have enough power to leave the pentacle and live to tell the tale but perhaps she could borrow it. Her fingers clenched on the tiles when she confusedly felt the tendrils of power under her palms. Earth magic. Familiar. Eternal. She didn’t have enough focus to clearly discern the intricate patterns of power but it was there for her to tap into all the same.

But there was something else…

A primitive tempting beat under the familiar hum of the Earth…

Her mind brushed against one of those tendrils  of power and recoiled in horror. She crashed back into her own body, opening her eyes and taking a deep gulps of air… _Dark, dark, dark_ … _Sweet rotten whispers… Promises of glory and power…_

The Hellmouth.

That source of power was right there. Easy to tap into. So easy it was almost tempting because she knew all she had to do was reach for it and she would not be cold anymore. She would have enough power to blast whatever was trying to kill her to hell. She wouldn’t need to gain Coin’s approval or to climb the Watchers’ ranks. She would be all powerful, young and beautiful for all eternity, a merciful Queen for the world to worship…

The whispers were so sweet… So _tempting_ …

“Trinket!”

She blinked and suddenly realized that she was still on her knees, still freezing, and not anywhere closer to getting out of there.

 A crashing sound echoed from somewhere in the penthouse, followed by a loud curse.

The rescue had come.

How long had she been listening to the Hellmouth’s song?

“I’m here!”

She tried to shout but her voice was pitiful to her own ears. She listened to Haymitch’s voice cursing _the thing_ to hell and back as he struggled to reach the bathroom. There were more crashing sounds so she supposed objects were back to flying all around in the air.

Finally, something – someone – hit the closed bathroom door. It resisted.

“It’s frozen shut.” she called out.

“Then, _fucking_ , blast it open!” he demanded.

Fire. Summoning fire, right then… It was above what she could do. But ice… She had always felt an affinity to ice. She focused on the frost that covered the wood and willed it to _crack_. Haymitch was still hitting the door and between her magic and his strength, he managed to kick it down.

One look at her and his features morphed into concern. “ _Fuck_ …”

He took three steps in the bathroom and then fell to his knees, struggling against an invisible attacker.

Except this one wasn’t so invisible anymore. She could guess at its human shape. The ghost was strangling Haymitch from behind and there was nothing the man could do to get rid of it. His hands tried to grab it but went through the translucent arms…

“No.” she growled and, this time, when she pushed deep into the earth to find a source of power, she didn’t let herself waver. She ignored the black rotten tendrils that came from the Hellmouth and grabbed the weaker but purer figment of Earth magic. She felt the jolt right down to her belly. The surge of power that made her head roll back in a flash of golden light… When she spoke, her voice wasn’t her own. It was _power_. “ _In the name of the goddess_ … _Begone_.”

Haymitch fell face first on the floor, gasping for breath. He coughed twice and then pushed himself on his hands and knees, crawling to her. When he grabbed her, she didn’t resist. She wasn’t sure she could have even if she had tried. He pulled her against him and he was so warm she snuggled against his chest gratefully, sighing in relief when he wrapped his jacket around her. He was muddy and wet from the storm outside but it was still warmer than anything she could dream of.

“Blue ain’t the best color on your lips, sweetheart.” he commented.

She laughed. She tried to. She might have if getting warmer hadn’t been _so_ painful. Prickles in her hands and toes… _Magic_. The magic she had borrowed was helping her.

“Nice lightshow.” he snorted next, helping her back to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist and steered her toward the bedroom.

“It won’t… It won’t stop it long.” she warned in a stuttering whisper. “Where’s… Where’s Kat…”

“She’s taking care of the vampires.” he told her, in a tone that clearly expressed it wouldn’t have been his first choice. “We didn’t want to risk you.”

It might have been nice to hear if it hadn’t been said in such a detached tone. It wasn’t her personally they had been concerned about but the loss of life in general.

“Weapons?” he asked, once they had left the freezing bathroom behind. It was warmer in the bedroom but not by much. She rushed to the walk-in closet and grabbed the first pair of leggings and the first woolen sweater she found. She needed to get warmer before they were under attack again.

“Trunk. Under the bed.” she answered, her teeth still chattering.

He put a knee down to grab her weapon trunk and, thus doing, turned his back on her. She seized the occasion to shed the towel and put on her clothes – more difficult than it seemed because of her uncooperative fingers and the fact the towel had frozen stiff.

“Got a thing for enchanted blades?” he mocked.

She pulled the blue angora sweater over her head and glanced at him to find him rummaging through her – altogether modest – collection of weapons. All of them were either enchanted or magical in nature. _A pain_ to get through customs too.

“They are pretty.” she replied petulantly. She liked the engraved runes and the shimmering colorful mist of magic that clung to some of them once activated. They looked _darling_ once exposed in an armory – as _darling_ as an armory could ever get anyway – and she could color code them with her shoes. Having the right accessories was important even when you were trying to kill something. Perhaps, even, _particularly_ then. “It is the latest rage for Watchers.”

She supposed she had been the one to start the trend, all things considered, but… It had launched a fashion of sort.

“Any idea what we’re going against?” he asked, still inspecting her collection. He was cautious at least. Grab the wrong end of an enchanted blade and you could end up missing a limb. He tossed her a glance over his shoulder and his eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding me!”

She fixed the buckle of her high heel and wriggled her toes to get the feeling back into them. The leftover of Earth magic was slowly fading and she suspected it might have spared her a bad case of frostbite.

“Excuse me but fighting demons naked is not my preference.” she huffed.

The smirk was immediate, as was the twinkle in his grey eyes. “Too bad.” His amusement faded quickly though. “But you’ve got no problem fighting them _in_ _heels_. Sure you don’t wanna do your make-up too?”

Her cheeks turned crimson when she realized her face was bare. It was bad enough that her hair was wet and tangled but no make-up to hide the imperfections and the small lines that were starting to appear at the corners of her eyes?

Well, this would settle the question of attraction for good. Now that he had seen her without artifices, there was no way he would consider…

“I was thinking and I believe we are in the presence of a nexus of sort.” she declared, keeping her features schooled. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had made her self-conscious. “The ghosts… I believe I recall reading about a phenomenon when…”

“Too many brutal deaths in one place and the souls stay trapped, like some sort of huge meta ghost.” he finished thoughtfully. His face closed. “ _The Capitol_ fits the bill. It was Snow’s before they turned it into a fancy hotel. The basement’s huge. He kept an arena in there. Hundreds of dead, probably.”

“ I remember reading about this… This is where your mother found your brother, is it not?” she hummed.

He pounced on her and, at first, she thought it was the comment that had enraged him but by the time she hit the floor, a shard of ice was embedded in the wall, right where her head had been a second earlier. The shard vanished but the dent in the wall remained.

Haymitch was heavy and she had instinctively grabbed the back of his shirt when he had tackled her. Her blue eyes found the odd shimmer in the corner of the room before she could even think about disentangling herself from him.

“ _Begone.”_  she hissed. “How many times do I need to do this tonight? _Begone_.”

It was less effective than a full exorcism and she doubted this particular ghost was truly banished. The threat was delayed again, though. She let out a long breath and forced her body to relax. Her muscles were cramping from the cold and the fear…

Haymitch, meanwhile, had propped himself on his elbow, his grey eyes dancing with amusement and… Something else. “You know… Not that I mind the position and all… But you can let go of me anytime, sweetheart.”

She realized she was still clenching his shirt and she quickly let go but jutted her chin up, refusing to be embarrassed by him again. “It appears it is not _me_ who is enjoying this position _the most_.”

His lips stretched into a smirk once more. “Hate to disappoint you, Princess, but that’s just a stake.”

“Would you stop with the pet names?” She rolled her eyes and pushed him off. She cleared her throat and forced her tone to go back to something _a little more_ professional. She wasn’t a school girl anymore and she would _not_ behave like one. “So we _agree_ we are in presence of an entity made of lost souls? It was probably dormant and I woke it up when I tried to exorcise what I believed to be one particular resistant ghost.” She hesitated. “Have you seen this before?”

_She_ hadn’t. And she didn’t like admitting that much.

“Once.” he answered, using the edge of the trunk to pull himself in a sitting position. “The ruins of a village in Africa. There was a slaughter.” He shook his head. “It looked like a giant mega ghost.”

“How did you beat it?” she asked.

“We didn’t.” he winced. “Chaff… He’s a friend of mine, we did some demon hunting together back in the day… _Whatever_.” He spoke more quickly, dismissing his own unnecessary explanations. She knew who _Chaff_ was, anyway. Chaff Mitchell. Not a Council operative even though they had done business with him once or twice but a freelance demon hunter. And a respected one, at that. “He got hurt. We bailed. Local sorcerers said they would take care of it.”

“Fantastic.” she deadpanned. “When I _think_ I used to believe you were _competent_.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who woke up the ghost army from hell.” he scowled. “Mind the sass.”

There was an ominous shattering sound and they both looked at the bay windows that were now full of cracks, like a spider web running all over the glass. Slowly, the fragments separated and spun until the sharp ends were pointed at them…

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that’s not you doing that.” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

She didn’t bother answering, she dove for the trunk and closed her hand on a particular hilt devoid of a blade. _Haymitch_ dove for _her_ and pulled her to her feet. He shove her toward the living-room. She whirled around and collided straight against his chest but he rolled with it and wrapped his arms around her waist to tug her into the relative safety of the living-room while she lifted a hand behind his back.

“ _Protect_!” she demanded.

The shards that had been flying straight at them crashed against the magic shield she struggled to sustain. It was a good thing Haymitch was holding her because he supported her when she faltered.

“Here’s the plan.” he told her, dragging her toward the main door. Was _that_ even a good idea though? She doubted the entity would let them use the elevator…“We get out, go make sure Katniss doesn’t get herself killed being her idiotic self, do some research and come back prepared.”

The living-room bay windows shattered too and, this time, she didn’t react fast enough.

Haymitch barely had time to push them both behind one of the couches for cover.

“I _hate_ to contradict but I _do_ believe we need a new plan.” she remarked.

Given the glare he shot her, he wasn’t amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo Gale has now officially been convinced vampires exist, Peeta's car is toasted and hayffie is in trouuuuuble ;) What do you think?
> 
> Word of update about this story: I am currently moving so it is entirely possible I will miss two Sundays updates in a row. I will try to update next week at least but I am not making any promise because moving is exhausting and I will lose internet for a few days at some point... I will keep you updated on tumblr about the update schedules, I know it's a bit of a cliffhanger to hold on to for two weeks but I will do my best ;)


	4. Chapter 4

4.

“Can you exercise it? If it’s made of ghosts or ghostlike energy or whatever, we should be able to get rid of it the same way.” Haymitch asked and, Effie supposed, it was a reasonable question.

She nervously rolled the hilt of the knife she had grabbed out of her trunk between her palms. A pale blue blade had appeared the moment her fingers had closed around it. It was long and curved like a flower blossom. “A standard exorcism would never work…”

“Alright.” he accepted without question, his grey eyes searching hers. “Do you know one that’s not standard?”

There was a touch of impatience in his voice but also something that sounded like _respect_. Magic wasn’t his area of expertise, he had told her as much, so he was willing to defer to her. It should have warmed her, made her proud perhaps, but at that moment she wouldn’t have minded simply following orders.

She was not a warrior.

She would have made a pitiful Slayer.

She had become a Watcher because Watchers weren’t supposed to see a lot of combat…

The coffee table flew over their heads, crashed against the wall behind them with so much force that pieces of woods and glass were projected everywhere like tiny missiles. Haymitch immediately leaped on her, forced her body closer to the floor, bowing over her to shield her with his body.

She couldn’t swallow back the frightened squeak.

“Trinket.” he said. “ _Focus_.”

_Focus._

How many times had Caesar requested it?

How many times had her mother demanded it?

She had disappointed them both. She refused to disappoint _Haymitch Abernathy._

“There is an old Sumerian one.” she recalled although she wouldn’t have been able to say how if pressed. “It is used for poltergeists. It might work.”

If she tricked a few things… If she managed to keep her magic steady… If…

“Good.” he praised. “Then, that’s the new plan.”

His hands were gripping her arms tight and it was a little painful but she didn’t say anything.

“No.” she objected, shaking her head. “It is not _good_. I will need supplies, a book and time.” She licked her lips and briefly closed her eyes when she heard something else being flung at the other side of the living-room. The TV maybe. “I have supplies and I have the book.” Although how she would find them in this mess… It looked like a tornado had destroyed the penthouse. “But time…”

His grey eyes dulled a little and an odd sort of calm washed over his face. “I’m gonna buy you time. Can you force it to manifest?”

“You… You _cannot_ mean to fight it!” she gasped. “It is a job for a Slayer not…” 

“Trinket.” he cut her off. “I’ve been fighting demons since I could walk.” Another man might have said it with pride or arrogance – and he certainly didn’t lack the two traits – but the way he said it… It was tired, bitter and a little disgusted. It was also very true. “I buy you time. You exorcise it before it kills me. I protect you and you’ve got my back, yeah? Make him manifest.”

There was no trace of hesitation on his face. None at all.

She doubted the expression on her own face was as confident.

And yet she couldn’t think of a better plan.

She forced the hilt of the knife in his right hand.

“Vapor blade.” she explained. “It’s…”

“Incorporeal.” he finished for her. “Works well on spirits. Good thinking grabbing that up.”

A Slayer should always listen to her instincts, Caesar had drilled into her head. Called or not, some things had stuck.

The couch they were hiding behind started shaking.

“Make him manifest. Now.” Haymitch ordered, letting go of her arm.

Her own hand shot out and coiled around his nape before she could overthink it.

_Instincts_ , she told herself. It was all about instincts.

She pulled him toward her until their noses bumped and their mouths were brushing. She could feel the itch of his stubble against the soft skin of her chin.

“ _May the odds be ever in your favor.”_  she mouthed directly against his lips.

He sucked in a breath when the magic rippled on him. The good luck charm wouldn’t save him, it was but a child’s trick, a heartfelt wish… But it might be enough protection, however small, to give him an edge.

She drew back, intending to summon the angry entity _before_ their fragile shelter was torn away from them but he didn’t let her go very far. The kiss he planted on her lips was angry, _rough_. His tongue forced its way into her mouth only long enough to poke at the inside of her teeth, then he was moving away.

His own brand of a luck spell, perhaps.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down, to find that inner peace she had so much trouble ever achieving… “In the name of the goddess, I _command_ thee. _Reveal yourself_.”

At first, she didn’t think she had made it.

The couch was flung aside and both Haymitch and she were tossed on opposite sides of the room. She took a second to recover after she landed, her thigh was smarting and she was pretty sure the slice on her palm had started bleeding again. Then, she lifted her head and she _saw_ it.

It was standing there, in the middle of the destroyed living-room, not too far from the shattered bay windows and the golden curtains that were flapping in the wind. Thunder boomed outside and the lights flickered, as if they had needed more dramatic effects.

The lights didn’t matter though. The entity would have been a beacon in the darkness. It shone blue, the very same blue as the incorporeal blade in Haymitch’s hand. It was humanoid-shaped but tall, so tall its head was brushing the ceiling. Faces kept stretching out of his torso, sometimes followed by a neck and shoulders, only to snap back inside as if the ghosts were trapped in it.

“Trinket.” Haymitch reminded her. “Now ain’t a good time to slack.”

She rushed toward the bedroom, her heels crushing wayward shards of glass under her feet. It was lucky her bedroom was the least damaged room. She tossed herself on the bed to grab the Ipad she had left charging the morning before and scrolled through the books selection until she found what she was looking for. She looked the list of ingredients over and the particular ritual twice, trying to commit the steps to memory and ignore the noises of fighting coming from the next room.

She kept her supplies in the closet, away from maids’ prying eyes. She grabbed what she needed and rushed back to the destroyed living-room, her arms full of jars and clutching her Ipad close to her chest. She sat down in the corner and started tracing the symbols around her, mixing the herbs, glancing at the tablet for references when she wasn’t tossing desperate looks at Haymitch.

He wasn’t faring really well. He was dodging and insulting the entity more than he was actually engaging it. At some point, the knife sliced through its arm and it recoiled with a guttural pained noise. Tendrils of mist rose from the wound…

It soon riposted by hurling Haymitch half across the room. Was it her lucky charm? He landed on the cushions of the half-broken couch.

He still lost the knife.

Effie started reading the incantation. Her Sumerian was a bit rusty and she tripped over a couple of words but she kept the flow, she didn’t stop, not even when the entity turned toward her as if it knew what she was doing, not even when Haymitch blocked its path, weaponless and bleeding from deep gashes on his arms, not even when it swept him out of the way as if he didn’t weight anything… She kept the rhythm, she kept reading, she gave in to that warm tingling inside her…

She should have been terrified but she was calm. She could feel the magic swelling around her.

The entity was a foot away when she finished the spell in a triumphant shout.

The whine was like nothing she had ever heard, a drum piercing screech that made her cover her ears… But when she looked up, the entity was gone and the cold that had fallen on the penthouse while she was on the phone with her mother had dissipated. Although the broken window weren’t exactly keeping the place warm…

She got to her feet, a little dizzy from the major magic use, and stumbled to where Haymitch’s form laid on his front apparently unconscious. She fell more than she sat down, her head too light for her to keep her balance. Her fingers were shaking when she reached for his shoulder.

“Please, do not be dead.” she begged, pushing so he would roll on his back. “Please, do not be dead.”

“If I’m dead, you’re gonna give me the kiss of life?” he muttered, slowly opening his eyes. His eyelids fluttered open and closed a few times before his gaze finally met hers. She had never though grey could have so many shades to it. He let out a long groan. “I’m too old for this _shit_.”

“You are the one who always kisses me first.” she huffed,

“Not true.” he denied, slowly sitting up. She reached out because he swayed a little left and right and he blindly grabbed at her shoulder. “You’re the one who started it tonight.”

“That was not a kiss, that was a luck _spell_.” she argued. “Are you alright?”

“Lips on lips, I call that a kiss, sweetheart.” he snorted and then winced. “Like I said. I’m getting old.” He looked around, taking the surrounding destruction and lifted his eyebrows. “Hope they’re insured.”

“I will blame the storm.” she decided, choosing to abandon the _kiss_ conversation for now.

“Better pretend it was a tiny tornado.” he advised, rotating his shoulder a few times. “I need to go and help Katniss.”

“I will come with you.” she offered even though she didn’t think she would be able to do much more magic tonight. At least, nothing on the scale she had just done.

“Can you even stand?” he mocked.

“Can _you_?” she retorted.

He hadn’t tried to stand up yet. He was still clutching her shoulder as if he wasn’t certain he could remain upright by himself. It suited her because she was still holding onto his arm. The room wasn’t spinning around her anymore but it wasn’t yet entirely steady.

His chuckles were half covered by the boom of thunder. “Point. No way you can give us a magic boost?”

She wrinkled her nose. “There won’t be any magic tricks for a few hours.” 

“And yet you wanna come and fight vampires and possibly an old god.” he taunted. “What are you gonna fight with? Your stilettos?”

“They are not _stilettos_ , they are _Jimmy Choo_.” she scoffed. “The _blasphemy_.” It earned her more chuckles. He patted his pants pocket and pulled out a silver flask. He took a long mouthful and offered it to her. She hesitated. “A flask. How charming.”

She snatched it before he could take it away and took a long mouthful. It was whiskey, not her alcohol of choice, but it burned her throat and, given the lingering cold that left goosebumps on her arms, it wasn’t unwelcomed.

When she handed it back, he put it away and sighed. “I really need to go.”

He used her shoulder as a lever to get back to his feet and let out a long breath once he was upright again. She grabbed the hand he offered and let him haul her up too.

“You shouldn’t go alone.” she insisted. “I am not a skilled fighter but I can probably handle a few vampires.”

He opened his mouth but before he could accept her offer or decline it again, a cheerful ringtone echoed from the pocket of his jacket. It took her a few seconds to place it and, when she did, she lifted her eyebrows, her lips pursed in a small smile. _Scooby Doo._

“Great fan of cartoons, are you?” she teased.

“That’s Peeta.” he rolled his eyes.

“Peeta is a great fan of cartoons?” she frowned. Was Peeta with Katniss? That was not protocol _at all_ and they would need to discuss it at some point soon. 

“That too.” he mysteriously replied and answered the phone, his face once again closed in worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back in business! Please do let me know your thoughts on this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Gale was taller than Katniss was and he had never needed to quicken his pace to keep up with her before. And yet, there he was, hurrying after her while she strode through the woods toward an old church in ruin that seemed to be rising from the muddy earth in the distance… The church was on a deserted patch of road, which was probably why it had been abandoned in the first place. Except it wasn’t so abandoned now. There were strange flickering lights inside, he could see them even through the covers of the trees. Candles, maybe. 

He glanced at Mellark who was trying to keep up too, firmly gripping an axe in one hand and a stake in the other. The boy’s gaze was on Katniss and never strayed from her.

Gale was carrying her bow. It was a very nice bow, not her old one – that one had been lost, she had briefly explained – and he was itching to use it because… Well, it was fine craftsmanship and he had a thing for bows.

Once they were closing in on the church, Katniss started slowing down, moving more carefully… There was no being discreet though. Not with the mud sticking to their shoes in a wet suction sound every time they took a step. And they were upwind too. But maybe the thunder and the rain would mask their approach long enough that they could snatch the element of surprise.

“Here’s the plan.” Katniss said. “Gale, find high ground and shoot them through the heart. Peeta, stay with him and guard his back. You _don’t_ take any risks. If it looks like we’re losing, make a run for it.”

“What are _you_ going to do?” Mellark frowned.

She was going to run straight in the middle. Gale just knew it.                     

“Maybe you should take Mellark with you.” he suggested. “I can handle myself.”

“I want you shooting.” she argued. “Once they figure out there’s an archer, they will try to take you out. This is the plan. Stick to it.”

And with that, she was rushing straight to the church without waiting for either of them, this time.

Mellark cursed and then the two of them were running too.

During the short walk, he had tried to prepare himself. _Vampires were real_. He still had some problems swallowing that one down. Katniss had been chosen to kill them even though it made no sense for a sixteen year-old girl half his size to be chosen when there were stronger people who could probably make a better job of it. Vampires were stronger than your average human and going against one was dangerous – but Mellark had apparently gone against a few already and had survived to tell the tale because Katniss had confided in _him_ first and wouldn’t have told Gale if… Lingering on that was probably not helpful.

Ways to kill vampires included wood through the heart – it _had_ to be the heart and preferably wood – beheading, fire and sunlight. Holy water and crosses would hurt them but not kill them and they couldn’t come in unless they were invited. To be turned, you needed to be sucked dry and to be fed enough vampire blood.

He went over the list as he ran and still didn’t find any of it reassuring.

Katniss had already jumped inside the church by the time they reached it, disturbing the odd chanting the black hoods clad vampires had been doing. As far as Gale could tell, they had been standing around the big red circle painted on the floor – was that blood? – and lined with flickering black candles. There were also strange symbols painted at each cardinal point but he didn’t pay them much attention because Katniss was fighting seven of them on her own, her sword not quite keeping her from getting overrun.

He looked for higher ground.

The church really was in a sad state. One of the walls had crumbled and so had parts of the ceiling. There had been a second story, though, either for the choir or to allow more people in… He spotted the old rotten steps that led up and dashed in that direction, Mellark on his heels.

The other boy hesitated at the bottom of the stairs and Gale figured he was tempted to go help Katniss. He couldn’t really blame him but he wouldn’t stop to reason with him either.

He found the best vantage point and he nocked an arrow.

He took a deep breath before releasing the shot, making a short prayer that the whole thing was real and that he hadn’t let his mind been turn by tricks. The vampire that had been about to jump on Katniss’ back exploded in a cloud of dust. He stopped holding his breath.

He was aware Mellark had finally made his choice and had reluctantly joined him on the upper floor, his axe and his stake ready to be used.

“Look! The amulet!” the other boy told him, pointing at the three vampires that had left the fray and had started chanting again. “Stop them!”

He spotted the one who was clutching an old amulet in his hand and released another arrow. Unfortunately, it also brought the attention on them. Mellark rushed to wait for them at the top of the stairs while Gale released more and more arrows. Some of them didn’t find their mark.

They were faster than humans and nobody had told him that.

Katniss tried to move between the vampires and the stairs but she was still fighting two of them and she had lost her sword at some point. Gale tried to shoot the two who were coming at them but he only hit a shoulder and a chest, not the hearts.

Mellark was ready though.

He flung the axe with a battle cry that would have been more impressive if the first vampire hadn’t grabbed it with his bare hands and torn it away from him.

Gale shot at the vampires Katniss was fighting. He got the one on the right. She rolled down, snatched the sword from the ground and dispatched the one on her left by cutting off his head.

The two vampires on the stairs probably saw their luck had run out because instead of jumping on Mellark to kill him, they jumped off the stairs and to the main floor and made a dash for the exit. Katniss tossed one stake and hit the one closest to the broken down doors in the heart.

The last one turned around and hissed at her like an angry cat, his yellow eyes looking around for a way to escape...

Katniss didn’t flinch or hesitate. She raised her sword and jumped. It was almost beautiful to watch. The vampire tried to avoid her but she turned on herself and hit him with a flying kick, sending him soaring in the air… He landed hard enough to break his back.

Gale never found out if vampires’ spinal cords could get severed because Katniss cut off his head before the guy could even look up.

For several minutes, they all stood still.

Katniss was panting in the rain that poured from the half collapsed ceiling, wayward strands of hair plastered to her face, blood, mud and dust painting an odd battle mask on her face…

Gale thought she had never been more beautiful.

It was Mellark who recovered first. He stumbled down the stairs and right up to where the vampire with the amulet had been and rummaged through the pile of dust until he could fish he old thing out.

“Do you think we made it?” he asked anxiously. “Do you think we stop them in time?”

He was watching the painted circle, the candles and the weird symbols warily.

Katniss shrugged her ignorance. “Try calling Haymitch. We need to know if he needs help anyway.”

Another fight?

Gale didn’t know if he had another fight in him. He realized he was still holding the bow ready and forced his arms to lower it. Then, he slowly made his way down the stairs, wondering how the two of them could look so nonchalant about the whole thing.

How soon had they gotten used to risking their lives like that?

He didn’t really listen to the conversation Mellark was having with Abernathy. He approached Katniss and pulled her into a hug without really asking for her permission. His heart had been in his throat the whole time she had been down there and he up there, too far to help if she really needed it… After a second, she dropped the sword and clung to him.

There was a long silence on Mellark’s end but Gale barely noticed.

“No. Sorry. I’m still here.” the other boy said, his voice strained. “No giant demon, no, but we could use a ride back to town. I crashed the car.”

Gale buried his face in Katniss’ wet hair. “Why didn’t you tell me _before_?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.” she retorted. 

And she had a point.

“You shouldn’t have gone through that alone.” he insisted.

She drew back and frowned. “I _wasn’t_ alone.”

She looked to where Mellark had been standing a minute earlier but he wasn’t there anymore. Gale let go of her and looked around but the church was empty.

They found him outside, he was watching the lightning bolts in the distance, his face angled away from them.

“Haymitch says if an old god had come through we’d know.” Mellark told them. “He also says you need to hold on to the amulet, he still wants to destroy it.” He forced the weird-shaped piece of metal in Katniss’ hand. Was it gold?, Gale wondered. It looked like gold. “They’re coming to pick you up in Miss Trinket’s car. They’ve taken care of things on their end but Haymitch said, since there’s no emergency, they might take five minutes to recover so you might want to take shelter until they get here.”

“What do you mean?” Katniss frowned. “Where are _you_ going?”

“I’m going to go and try to start my car again.” Mellark explained. “Don’t worry about me.”

And with that, he started walking toward the road as if it was perfectly safe for him to do so. As if there weren’t vampires and apparently old gods and huge demons hiding in the shadows of the night… Gale exchanged a look with Katniss. He didn’t need her to say it to know they would be following.

“Wait!” she demanded. “We’re coming with you. They’re going to drive past your truck anyway.” Mellark didn’t acknowledge that and Katniss started scowling. Gale wisely hung back a little. “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.” Mellark snapped. “I’m just… Look, I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

“Did you get hurt?” she worried.

“No. I’m fine.” Mellark sighed, pushing ahead. “You should check on Gale. He banged his head pretty bad when we hit that tree.”

Katniss didn’t check on him but she _did_ fall back to walk with him. Even if she spent the whole time glaring at Mellark’s back.

“I don’t get it.” she muttered eventually.

“I know.” Gale snorted, not really amused.

“Do _you_?” she challenged.

He did, actually, but he wasn’t ready to confront her about it in the middle of spooky woods under a thunderstorm when they were both soaked, bloody, and, above all, _not alone_.

The truck looked worse now that the emergency had passed. It was lucky it hadn’t hit the tree face on. First, because Gale was pretty sure they would all be dead if it had. Second, because the truck might still be salvageable.

Mellark walked around it and inspected the car with his phone’s flashlight, becoming whiter and whiter with every new turn he took. “I’m dead. I’m dead, dead, _dead_.”

“Look, your parents will be angry but it’s not like they don’t have the money…” Katniss awkwardly offered in a slightly miffed attempt at comforting him while still being very much pissed at him.

“I know a few things about cars.” Gale added, with a little more tact. “I can help you fix it, maybe.”

He wasn’t thrilled at the thought of spending more time with Mellark than necessary but the other boy _had_ saved his life earlier.

Mellark didn’t seem to hear either of them. He was staring at the truck, pale and stricken.

Gale had had no idea he was one of those people who cared so much about their wheels. Unless, of course, it had more to do with _him_ hugging Katniss in the church…

Gale and Katniss spent the next twenty minutes staring at Mellark while Mellark stared at his truck, all the while acutely aware that being so close to trees in a thunderstorm was dangerous on top of the whole thing being a little awkward.

Gale was relieved when headlights finally pierced the darkness and it was him who climbed back on the road to signal the car to stop. Trinket’s car or not Trinket’s car, he wasn’t going to wait any longer for rescue.

It _was_ the Art teacher though. And he took a second to wonder how they were all going to fit in her Mini Cooper. He wasn’t sure because he couldn’t really see in the darkness but he thought it was _pink_.

Abernathy certainly had the pinched look of someone who had been forced to ride shotgun in a small pink car.

The man was out of the car before Gale could get more than a glimpse at his face through the windshield though. Trinket hadn’t even properly turned the engine off yet.

“You’re okay?” the History teacher asked Katniss and Mellark both – deliberately passing in front of _him_ without asking, Gale noticed. Once he was certain they were both alright, he let out a long whistle. “ _Shit_ , kid, you weren’t kidding when you said you wrecked it...”

Trinket was slower in getting out of the car and, when she did, she had an umbrella in her hand. She didn’t look pleased to see him either. Gale tried not to take it too personally. They weren’t his favorite people either.

“You took your time.” Katniss reproached, burrowing further into her leather jacket.

“Would have been here quicker if the diva over there hadn’t insisted on doing her make-up.” Abernathy scoffed.

Trinket bristled. “My apologies. I had to keep busy while you were trying _not_ to faint with every step you took.”

The teachers glared at each other.

Katniss rolled her eyes and pushed Gale toward the car. “Let’s go.”

Abernathy had to actually guide Mellark toward the Mini by the shoulder.

“You are not hurt, dear, are you?” Trinket asked him gently before the boy climbed in, sandwiching Katniss between the two of them.

Another awkward fifteen minutes to go, Gale figured.

“No. I’m fine.” Mellark answered in a very flat tone. “Thanks.”

“I can talk to your folks, if you want…” Abernathy suggested, once both teachers were back in the car and Trinket was driving toward town. “We can say you swerved to avoid me. Make it my fault. I can pay for the repairs…”

Trinket shot him a surprised look that the man ignored.

“It won’t help.” Mellark answered in that same flat tone. “Thanks, though.”

The rest of the drive was spent summing up what had happened on both part. Since Abernathy and Katniss were both equally laconic people, it was soon followed by a very long silence.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you and explain?” Abernathy insisted when they stopped in front of the bakery.

Gale didn’t really catch what Mellark mumbled but it must have been a refusal because he took out into the heavy rain by himself.

Tension rose up a notch after his departure.

Abernathy’s blatant hostility toward him was perhaps only equal to Trinket’s obvious exhaustion. More than once Abernathy was forced to poke her arm so she didn’t fall asleep behind the wheel.

All in all, it was almost a relief when he slipped out of the car and sneaked back into his family’s trailer.

The night had brought a lot to take in and he needed the peace and quiet to let it sink in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They beat the vampires! Yeaaaah! Now, what's going on with Peeta? Will they manage to destroy the amulet? Will Gale and Effie become part of the team? Let me know your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6

When Gale walked Katniss over to the mostly abandoned suburb in the heights of the Seam, he was still trying to process everything he had learned over the last forty-eight hours. He had barely made it through school the previous day, feeling entirely disconnected from the rest of his peers. Every time one of the teachers had asked a question, he had wanted to shout that he had fought _vampires._ Katniss had done her best to answer his questions but for every one of her answers, a hundred more interrogations imposed themselves.

Why was the Slayer a teenager girl? How was it _fair_?

Fate, apparently, _wasn’t_ fair and she had stormed out in a huff when he had countered that it would make more sense to have someone older and more _trained_ doing the killing.

He wasn’t sure what her feelings about being the Slayer were, he mused as they passed the once cheerful and now faded sign that welcomed them to _The Village_ – otherwise known as the stillborn dream of a wealthy elite.

He wasn’t even surprised Abernathy lived _there_.

The place was like a ghost town. The houses had probably been grand once but now they just looked creepy even in the soft afternoon sunlight. Of course, the History teacher lived at the very top of the hill, in the very last house of the lane.

“Don’t start nagging him.” Katniss warned as they turned on his street. “And if Peeta shows up, be nice.”

Mellark hadn’t made an appearance in school the previous day and, apparently, Katniss had tried to check on him at the bakery that morning but had been chased away by his mother who had actually threatened her with a broom and a warning that they didn’t give charity to scamps. She had ranted to Prim and him about it for a good fifteen minutes.

Abernathy was lying on his back in his driveway working on his bike. Not a sigh Gale had been expecting. It was a nice bike too. Not that he was going to admit that much. Katniss might have convinced him he wasn’t a serial killer but there was still something fundamentally _wrong_ to sending young girls fighting battles against demons for you.

Besides, he didn’t think the teacher liked him any better than he did.

Case in point, his face immediately fell when he spotted him.

“I liked the other boy better.” Abernathy commented, extricating himself from beneath the bike. He wiped his hands on a cloth and didn’t even acknowledge him. “Peeta’s coming on his own?”

“I don’t think he’s coming at all.” Katniss answered, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Maybe he’s sick.”

Abernathy frowned and stood up but before he could say anything the sound of an engine made them all look down the street. Gale thought they were all expecting Mellark to show up right on cue, with his parents’ car or maybe even a new one – he had heard Mr Mellark had franchised two bakeries in nearby towns, after all – but it was a mover truck that stopped _directly_ across the street.

They watched heavy-built men carry down furniture and boxes into the house right in front of them.

“What’s that?” Katniss asked, a frown on her face.

“Hell if I know.” Abernathy groaned. “It’s the third one today. Guess I’m getting neighbors.”

“In _this_ place?” Gale snorted. “Right in front of your house? What are the odds?”

In his experience, coincidences _that_ huge weren’t good.

The Watcher didn’t look too concerned. Something between a smirk and a wince floated on his lips for a second. “Not in my favor.” Then, his grey gaze darted to him as if he was seizing him up. “What are _you_ doing here, then?”

He shrugged. “Katniss said you were going to destroy that amulet… She said I could come.”

When Abernathy looked at her, she simply shrugged too. “You invited Peeta. I didn’t see what the problem was.”

“My house ain’t open to every boy who catches your fancy, sweetheart.” he spat. “And it ain’t gonna be a party.” He waved his hand, sweeping that problem aside. “I told Trinket to show up. You should know.”

Katniss made a face. “ _Why_?”

There was a whine in her voice that made Gale hide his smile. His opinion of the Art teacher – who, as it turned out, was _also_ a Watcher _and_ a witch – wasn’t stellar. She was odd. Arrogant. She strutted around school like she owned it. And, apparently, she wasn’t even… _like them_. Were witches even _human_? His best friend hadn’t sounded sure.

“ _Because_ I don’t like to do magic when I don’t have to and since we’ve got a witch on hand, it seems stupid not to take advantage.” Abernathy retorted. “And play nice with her.”

If possible, Katniss’ scowl deepened. “ _Why_?”

“Cause she’s more powerful than she knows and we might use her yet.” her Watcher grumbled. “Don’t be a brat.”

Katniss’ scowl was almost a childish pout now. It had been a long time since Gale had seen that particular expression on her face. Since they had been kids and their fathers had still been around to scold them. He wasn’t sure he liked the influence Abernathy had on her.

But he could admit he had crossed a line.

Which was why he cleared his throat to get the others’ attention.

“Look, Mr Abernathy…” he started, pausing long enough for the man to tell him he could forget formalities like he had obviously done for Katniss and Mellark. It didn’t happen so Gale soldiered on. He wasn’t going to be kept on the sidelines because the man didn’t like him. “I’m sorry about the things I said.”

“Which part? My molesting young girls or my killing them?” Abernathy deadpanned.

He was saved from having to give an answer that probably wouldn’t have done anything to appease the situation by the arrival of a Barbie pink Mini Cooper that gleamed in the sunlight. The Art teacher’s car went straight into the driveway of the opposite house.

“ _Fuck_ , do I love never being wrong…” Abernathy sighed, his voice dripping with sarcasm while Trinket got out of the car and exchanged a few words with the movers.

Then, she hurried across the street, and Gale had to wonder how someone in their mid-thirties could wear a dress _that_ pink with a straight face. And what was up with the ton of make-up she felt the need to cake her face with?

“Don’t tell me.” Abernathy called out once she was within hearing range. “ _Please_ , don’t tell me.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him with blatant disapproval. “ _Hello_ to you too, Haymitch.” She flashed a warm smile at the Slayer. “Katniss.” Then her gaze fell on Gale and her smile froze a little. “And you are…”

“Gale Hawthorne.” Abernathy supplied in a drill voice. “He’s the new addition, seems like.”

The woman’s smile didn’t slip or falter but her blue eyes turned a little cold. “I have been meaning to talk to you about _that_ …”

“I bet.” the Watcher snorted, his eyes giving her a once over that was neither polite nor very appropriate giving that he and Katniss were standing right there.

“Hi.” Gale said, uncomfortable with teachers flirting right in front of him. “So… You’re moving over there?”

The question seemed to put an end to the weird battle of stares they had been engaging on. She startled a little and turned to him with another of those dazzling smiles that looked too bright to be genuine. She was like those girls at school, as fake as the likes of Glimmer…

He didn’t trust her, he decided, and he would make sure Katniss stayed wary too.

“Why, yes! How convenient will it be?” the teacher grinned. “I could not remain in _The Capitol_ any longer, of course. They were _not_ entirely happy with my tornado story. So, I thought… If I have to buy a house, I should as well buy something _big_. And, as fate has it, the realtor directed me to this _charming_ little Village… I cannot _think_ why the project was not more popular. It is a shame to see these houses in this state of disrepair, really.”

“And you _didn’t_ know I lived right here.” Abernathy taunted, eyebrows lifted high in mocked puzzlement. He sounded more amused than irritated however.

“I did _not_ have the _slightest_ clue until you texted me your address.” she replied without missing a beat. “Imagine my surprise. You could have knocked me over with a feather!”

“Or a wrecking ball.” The Watcher countered with a fake smile of his own. “Though, better not tempt me with that.”

Mellark arrived almost unnoticed because they were too enthralled by the verbal sparring. He walked up the street with his hands in his pocket and his shoulders a little slouched. Katniss spotted him first.

“Where have you _been_?” she immediately demanded to know. “You weren’t at school yesterday and I’ve tried to call you.”

Mellark looked startled by her aggressive attitude. He looked up at Abernathy who was studying him with a frown, having apparently forgotten all about his fight with Trinket. “Sorry. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday and I had to help out at the bakery today.” He looked back at Katniss. “I didn’t check my phone, I didn’t think you’d need me.”

“I didn’t _need_ you, I was worried about you.” she grumbled.

“Okay.” he said flatly. “Are we doing the magic thing? I can’t stay long.”

“Sure.” Abernathy said, still watching him with an attention that would have put Gale ill-at-ease. “Let’s go inside.”

Trinket didn’t need much more of an invite, she immediately went straight in and Gale rolled his eyes when he heard her exclaim about ancient furniture and rustic charm in a very high-pitched tone all the way from the front yard. Katniss hurried after her, probably scared she would turn the place upside down. He wasn’t sure she was wrong to be worried.

He followed at a slower pace, aware Mellark and Abernathy were hanging back and a little curious despite himself.

“You’re okay, kid?” the teacher asked and, while he didn’t stop to look, Gale could almost picture the hand the man had placed on the boy’s shoulder. “How did it go about the car?”

“Not great.” Mellark admitted.

“Your dad was angry?” Abernathy insisted, in a weird tone.

Gale had the feeling there were layers to that question.

“Dad’s never angry.” Mellark answered bitterly.

Gale rolled his eyes at how spoiled he must have been to get away with wrecking a car without troubles and quickened his steps to keep up with the others. The inside of the house looked big, dark and uninviting. It didn’t exactly smell _fresh_ either.

“You want me to come over and explain?” Abernathy insisted. “Smooth things out?”

“No.” Mellark _snapped_ with far too much heat. His tone morphed into something a little more subdued next. “Sorry. Look, I’m fine. Everything’s _fine_.”

Gale was following the voices down a corridor when Mellark pushed past him at a hurried pace. Abernathy wasn’t as much in a hurry but he did catch up with him without problem.

“Don’t snoop.” the teacher warned in a low voice that didn’t carry. “I don’t like that.”

Abernathy was gone through the doorway ahead before Gale could deny he had been eavesdropping.                                                                   

He hadn’t been ready for the library. It was two stories high and a wooden pathway with a carved balustrade overlooked the main floor, the walls were lined with bookshelves and there were even those odd sliding ladders to reach the higher books he had thought only existed in very old movies. It was impressive and it made him forget about his annoyance for a second.

There was a huge round wooden table in the middle of the room, half of it was covered with books and half empty bottles of liquor but a big space had been cleared in anticipation of the amulet’s destruction.

Trinket was inspecting the jars and pots full of weird colored sands and herbs on the table.

“You’re sure you’re up to it?” Abernathy asked her. “You almost overdid it again the other night.” 

“Please.” she scoffed. “This is _barely_ magic. A child could do it.”

“Really?” Mellark asked, perking up for the first time.

“Of course.” she hummed, her smile more genuine this time. “Creating a magical fire is more like alchemy, truly. No more than a mixing of ingredients… It does not require actual power but it does ask for meticulousness.” She shot a look to the other teacher. “Which is why it is perhaps wise Haymitch called me. I do not believe _meticulousness_ to be one of his _many_ qualities.”

She phrased it like it wasn’t a criticism but the way she brushed her fingers against one of the bookshelves and then rubbed them together to get rid of the dust was telling.

Abernathy didn’t seem bothered though. He simply stared back at her in a way that was _really_ starting to make Gale uncomfortable, a smirk on his lips.

Katniss tossed the amulet on the table, earning herself a disapproving look from Trinket, and then flopped down on one of the chairs. After a moment of uncertainty, Gale did the same. Abernathy leaned against one of the bookshelves with his arms crossed.

Trinket, though, waved Mellark closer. “Watch for now. Perhaps you can try it next time.”

All in all, it was a little boring. Like watching his mother cook. She measured quantities on an old-fashioned brass scale and then tossed them in a flat bowl. It didn’t look like magic at all.

“Does someone have a match?” she asked after a few minutes. “I forgot my lighter in the car…” Abernathy patted his pockets and came up empty while all the adolescents shook their heads no. The man was about to go look in his kitchen when she waved him off. “Never mind.”

She flicked her fingers and a flame appeared dancing above her thumb.

Mellark looked in awe.

A cold sweat ran down Gale’s spine. He glanced at Katniss and saw she was just as ill at ease with the display as he was. Another glance revealed that Abernathy, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

But, then again, she didn’t look like your typical fairytale witch and the man looked like he was well and truly under her spell. Clearly, Gale had been wrong to worry about Katniss being his next victim. If Abernathy had been a serial killer, Trinket would probably have been next, the way he was looking at her.

Unbothered by the close watch they were all keeping on her, she lowered her thumb to the bowl and snatched her hand away when the fire flared. The flames were a vivid emerald green.

“Here we are.” she declared. “Magical fire.”

“That’s it?” Katniss frowned. “You barely did anything.”

“As I said, alchemy is a lot like chemistry. Accessible to anyone who can read and follow instructions.” Trinket huffed, a little vexed. “Now, for the delicate part…”

She tossed the amulet in the flames. For an instant nothing happened and then a thick smoke rose up toward the ceiling before dissipating. The fire snuffed out and they could see the amulet was broken in two on its bed of ashes.

They all stared at it for a minute and then Katniss scoffed. “Why did we have to be here for this?”

“’Cause it’s good for a Slayer to be familiar with that sort of things.” Abernathy snapped. “What did I say about being a brat?”

Katniss glared at him and stood up. “Are we training today?”

The man hesitated and then shook his head. “I want a word with Trinket. You’re patrolling tonight though, I’ll come.”

“Fine.” she shrugged and turned to Peeta. “You’re walking back with us? You could come to my place. I’m sure Prim’d like to see you.” 

“I can’t. I have to go back to the bakery.” Mellark refused. “And I want to borrow a book so don’t wait for me. If that’s okay, Haymitch.”

“Depends which one.” Abernathy shrugged.

Somehow, Gale had the feeling if _he_ had asked for a book, the answer would have been a big fat no.

“Fine.” Katniss snapped again. She grabbed Gale’s arm and he let himself get pulled outside and back on the path home, his best friend glowering at his side. “I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Mellark’s or Abernathy’s?” he asked because, from where he stood, it seemed like everyone in that room had some sort of problem with someone else.

“ _Peeta_.” she retorted. “You said _you_ knew. The other night in the woods. You said you knew why he was being so weird all of a sudden.”

He glanced back to make sure the other boy hadn’t caught up or wasn’t within earshot and then he shrugged. “Catnip, he’s in love with you.”

She stared at him and then scoffed, averting her eyes and keeping them riveted to the Village’s welcoming sign in the distance. “That’s _bullshit_.”

“It’s really not.” he replied matter-of-factly. “Guess he’s jealous because now… Well, I’m here now, right? You don’t need him to have your back anymore. Even if he’s the teacher’s pet.”

Katniss shot him an unreadable look. “He’s my friend. He wasn’t there _just_ because it was convenient, Gale.”

The spark of anger in her grey eyes told him not to push. It irritated him because… Well… _Because_. It wasn’t nice to toy with Mellark’s feelings. He was an okay guy, after all. And Katniss… Katniss wasn’t in love with Mellark.

He had always known Katniss had a thing for _him_.

Hadn’t he?

A change of subjects seemed in order. “I thought witches were evil.”

“Some. Not all.” she explained, the scorn still on her face. “I don’t know. Haymitch says Trinket’s okay.”

“That’s because he’s in love with her.” he pointed out.

This time, she burst out laughing. She found it _that_ ridiculous. “Is there anyone who’s not in love with someone else from your point of view?”

“You’re a little hard to figure out.” he honestly answered before he could stop himself. That put an end to her laughter and that brought them back on treacherous waters so he cleared his throat. “Fine. Maybe he isn’t in love with her. But he wants to get in her pants. _Bad_.”

She made a disgusted face. “You don’t know a single thing about Haymitch.”

“I know what a guy looks likes when he’s attracted to a woman.” he countered. “Just… Be careful around her, okay? Magic seems like the kind of things a Slayer should be fighting.”

“And you’re an expert on Slayers now?” she challenged.

“If I were, I’d find you a loophole so you could get out of it.” he muttered bitterly.

She stopped walking and he had no choice but to stop and turn to face her, a little puzzled by the sudden stop.

“I _like_ being the Slayer.” she snapped. “I wasn’t happy about it at first, sure. I just wanted to keep Prim alive. But… I’m _meant_ for this. I’ve been chosen. So I’ll bear it.”

“Oh, come on…” he scoffed. “Fate doesn’t exist. Nothing is written in stone. Maybe it’s some sort of crazy mutation gene or something…” Anger flashed on her face and, next thing he knew, she was storming away down the road, forcing him to jog to catch up. “Don’t be mad. I just wish…”

“What? That I was different?” she spat. “Well, sorry, Gale. I’m just me and I’m just doing the best I can.”

She refused to say another word all the way back to the trailer park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't look like Gale can be a good fit but Effie is _certainly_ doing her best to not be left out, isn't she? Haymitch gained a neighbor! Peeta is clearly having troubles... Katniss is oblivious... One chapter left in this episode ;) Let me know your thoughts!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the change in rating ;)

Effie trailed her nails on the spines of the books on one of the bookshelves, more focused on her manicure than on the titles under her fingertips. Her nails were painted a moss green with flecks of gold and the occasional gem. At least, the Seam had a good nail salon and that was already something…

She tried to look like she was inspecting the library content to give Haymitch and Peeta their privacy. The boy was borrowing an essay about Slayers written by a Watcher half a century ago apparently. She had read it, of course, because it had been part of her studies but she had found it _dreadfully_ boring. She didn’t understand how a teenager could willingly submit himself to terrible prose and awfully misogynistic outdated ideas.

When it came to Slayers, Watchers’ points of view were _often_ misogynic. And patriarchal. But, then again, for centuries Watchers had traditionally been men leading girls who had to swear complete obedience by the hand. They got used to it. Women in the Council were too few to change eons olds ideas and most of them were stuck in the past themselves. That, however, was not a popular point of view and she usually kept it to herself – unless Mags was available to listen to her rant. Tradition was paramount in the Council building. A wonder Coin became president of the board of directors…

“You’re coming to patrol later?” Haymitch asked, walking the boy back toward the hallway and, she supposed, the front door.

“No. I’m grounded and I don’t think Katniss wants me there anyway.” Peeta replied. “She’s got Gale now.”

She wasn’t sure what Haymitch answered to that because they had left the room and she didn’t dare follow to eavesdrop. She turned to inspect another bookshelf. His collection was impressive even though she figured most of the books belonged to Mags. She stopped on the shelf that was home to the Watchers’ journals, fascinated despite herself. She lifted her hand to touch and then let it fall without making contact. Some of those books were so hold they should have been manipulated only with silk gloves.

“Those are the originals, aren’t they?” she asked when she felt his presence in the room again. “I only ever saw copies.”

Thousands of records lined the wall. Some thin and some thicker. Some bound in leather and some made of fragile sheets of paper. She was pretty sure there must have been _scrolls_ from ancient Egypt somewhere in there.

She _might_ have been a little _obsessed_ with those journals when she had been a teenager. She loved to read about Slayers’ victories. She loved to read about their death a lot less. It had reminded her too much that if she ever was called, her demise was assured. 

“The original journals go to the active Watcher.” he answered. “It’s tradition.”

She knew that, of course, but still. It was almost humbling to be so close to pieces of history. The fact that her name might have ended up carved on the spine of one of those journals if fate had dictated it another way sent a chill down her spine. It wasn’t really a good chill.

She decided a change of topic was in order. “Are you training Peeta to become a Watcher? You know they would never accept him. It is cruel.”

“Is it?” he scoffed. She turned around to face him. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Ain’t training him to be _anything_ , sweetheart. He knows about the real state of things and he wants to learn. The cruel thing would be to tell him to forget everything about it. I never believed in that stupid policy. I see its use, yeah, but I never found it really practical when you’re not hiding in the Council’s headquarters.”

“Don’t you wish someone had told you to forget?” she asked, a wistful note in her voice.

She knew he picked up on it because he let his guard fell a little. He watched her as if she was a riddle. It made her feel mysterious and she liked that.

He shrugged. “I’ve never been very good at burying my head in the sand.”

“How unfortunate.” she sighed. “I am _very_ talented at it but by the time I was free to do so in my youth, it was too late for me to find a place in the normal world.”

And she still regretted it. If her mother hadn’t so readily given her up to the Council… Although with Elindra’s own activities, she would have been exposed to the darkness in the world all the same. But she might have found a way to pretend it was all a sham. She _did_ have a knack for lying to herself.

She swept that aside and let her lips stretch into a bright smile. “I believe you wanted a word?”

She walked toward the big round table, swaying her hips a touch more than strictly necessary. His eyes roamed over her figure again, just like she had known they would. She had picked the dress _especially_ because she had suspected he would like it. It was short and flowed around her thighs. The color might not have been to his taste but he had looked so disgusted when he had seen her car the other night that she had been unable to stop herself. She _did_ like pink. _And_ infuriating him, it seemed.

“What are you playing at, moving right across the street?” he asked.

He didn’t move. Not even when she leaned against the table, barely sitting on it, her hands propped a little behind her, her head tilted to the side… An open invitation.

And he wanted to answer it.

But he wouldn’t cross the room. Because crossing the room would mean she held the power and this tension between them was all about control.

She wasn’t about to go to him either.

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” she retorted, her smile turning into a more genuine grin. “It is not the conversation I had in mind.”

His smirk was slow but just as genuine. “We’re gonna get to _that_ later.” 

They did not have to name it, she supposed. The attraction between them… It had reached potentially dangerous levels. She had felt it when they had been fighting the ghost. They had opened the pot when he had kissed her on the succubus hunt and they had stirred it when she had whispered a good luck charm against his lips.

The way he had looked at her when she had been shivering with only that frozen towel to keep her decent… There had been more urgent matters and he had done a good job at _not_ leering too much but she had seen him ogle her and she hadn’t minded it one bit.

The problem was, it was a distraction and distractions wouldn’t do on such an important mission as the one she was on. The Slayer came first, always.

“I might not be so willing to address that particular subject later.” she pouted, straightening up.

“I’m gonna take my chances.” he countered.

“How bold of you.” she retorted. “Good luck with that gambit.”

She meant to strode past him, her head high and a vexed pout on her lips, but suddenly, he was filling the doorway, looking _just_ a little panicked at the prospect of her leaving. She stopped and stared at him, refusing to be unnerved by the sheer built of him – he was tall and he had broad shoulders and he made her feel small and delicate. Truth be told, she was too aroused to be unnerved…

He was just so…

_Infuriating_.

He refused to curb to her expectations of him and she had had _great_ expectations. He was coarse and boorish and he smelt like whiskey and grease – which might be because his hands didn’t look that clean. If he had been anyone else, she would not even have given him the time of day so she really didn’t understand why she was reacting to him like that.

Her own body felt treacherous around him.

Too eager to melt.

“Okay.” he said, licking his lips. “Maybe we can have _this_ conversation first.”

“Good.” she breathed out. “Where is your kitchen? You need to wash your hands.”

This time, he let her slip past him, amusement dancing in his grey eyes. “My hands need to be clean to talk?”

“Your hands should _always_ be clean no matter the circumstances. I _know_ Mags _must_ have raised you better than that.” she retorted, trying a door on the right.

The layout of the house seemed to match her own except for the two stories library. In her own house, it wasn’t a two floors open space but a study at ground level and a guest room upstairs that she would probably convert into an armory. There were too many guest rooms as it was in the house. She liked her space and she liked grand living arrangements but this was bordering on ridiculous. Those houses could have lodged five people – _easily_.

His kitchen was in a dreadful state and she wrinkled her nose at the sight of the unwashed dishes in the sink.

“You live in a pigsty.” she declared.

“Guilty as charged.” he snorted. Although, she was pleased to notice, he did go to wash his hands and he was even generous with the soap. “ _You_ have a stick up your ass.”

“You are _so rude_!” she gasped.

No one had talked to her the way he did before and lived to tell the tale. No one.

“And you’re _arrogant_.” he shot back. “If we have to list each other’s finest qualities, we’re gonna be here all day.” He lifted his eyebrows and tossed her a mocking look. “Unless that kind of foreplay is what floats your boat.”

This was a mistake.

She wasn’t sure what she had been playing at trying to seduce him. She wanted it and she had never refused herself anything. When she wanted something, she simply went after it. Particularly men. Men were easy. Women were too most of the time. Haymitch Abernathy had been featuring in her fantasies for a long time and since he was obviously attracted to her, she had thought…

She had thought the best way to deal with the attraction problem was to fully face it so they could put it behind them.

But, attraction or not, he was _not_ the kind of men she was used to dating or even have one night stands with. He lacked class, he lacked subtlety and he lacked manners.  It would be a disaster of epic proportions.

“I should go home and supervise the movers.” she said abruptly and turned around. She walked fast toward the front door, the clicking of her heels barely louder than the frantic beating of her heart.

She was halfway down the corridor when his hand closed around her elbow, still wet. It left darker spots on the pink fabric of her sleeve. 

“Trinket…” he hesitated.

He was blowing hot and cold in the space of one second and she wasn’t used to feeling so uncertain in that type of situation.

She looked up at him, waiting for what would come next, half ready to tell him they should stop this game before it blew in both their faces…

In retrospect, she should have seen the kiss coming. And yet it still took her breath away. His mouth was firm, _warm_ , and when his tongue swiped against her bottom lip, she allowed him to deepen the kiss without a conscious thought. His hands tangled in her hair, tilted her head left… She clutched his shirt, tugged him closer…

She wasn’t sure if he pushed or she pulled but soon she felt the wall at her back. The kissing was growing heated. His leg slipped between hers, pinning her to the hard surface, his hands left her hair and roamed down her neck, down her sides, went back up to cup her breasts… She gasped for breath and he took advantage of that to brush his mouth down her jaw.

“I had a thought…” she said.

“You _don’t_ say.” he chuckled, nibbling on a spot behind her ear that had her closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the wall. “I had _a couple_ too… How kinky are yours?”

His hand slid up her thigh, under her dress… She wrapped her leg around his waist without much prompting…

“I am serious.” she insisted, placing a fending hand on his chest that was in total contrast with the way her hips jutted forward, looking for friction.

He propped his forearms on either side of her head and leaned down to peck her lips. It wasn’t innocent. One peck led to another and to another and she almost forgot what she wanted to say because suddenly they were aggressively kissing again. 

“I think…” she continued when his lips left hers. She was struggling to open his shirt , slowed down by her fake nails. Not that it seemed to bother him much because he was nuzzling her throat, nipping at her collarbone. His hands were running on her sides and she had the feeling he was looking for the zipper of her dress.

“If you’re still thinking, I’m doing something wrong…” he mocked. She whacked his arm and he snorted. “Okay. Let’s hear it. Should have known you would be a pain in the ass _even_ about sex.”

She pursed her lips and tossed him an annoyed glare. “ _Well_ … I was going to say we obviously have an attraction and it might be a good idea to get it out of our system so it does not affect our professional relationship.”

“Won’t lie. Thought we were _already_ doing that, sweetheart.” he taunted. He had finally located the zipper and he pulled it down. He didn’t try to take the dress off though, he suddenly looked a little uncertain. “I ain’t looking for _anything_ , though, you get that, yeah? This ain’t gonna be a thing… Doesn’t mean we’re gonna date or some _shit_ …”

“Please. I was _not_ proposing.” she deadpanned. “How old is this shirt?”

He seemed thrown by the change in topic and looked down at himself before shrugging. “You want to give me fashion advices _now_?”

She decided it was as good an answer as any and she stopped trying to work out those buttons to grab the fabric and pull. _That_ , her beautiful nails could handle.

Buttons flew off when it ripped and she didn’t lose a second before kissing and licking the new skin available.

He coiled a hand around her nape and drew her head back.

“That…” he breathed out. “… was _hot_.”

“Do not sound so surprised, it is _insulting_. I _am_ hot.” she huffed. “Now get that dress off me.”

“Bossy.” he accused, slipping the dress over her head.

“Is that a problem?” she grinned.

“Not in this context.” he chuckled. “Don’t mind a challenge.”

They stopped talking after that. There was too much exposed flesh to explore – and it was too important to fight for control. It got out of hands, _fast_. The kissing was dirty, the hands were almost brutal in their caresses, the way they rubbed against each other almost shamed her… They were like _animals_.

They tore the remaining of their clothes away, only happy once it was skin on skin. He was hard and throbbing in her hand by that point.

A distant part of her noted that there might have been parts of him that had disappointed her since she had met him but _this one_ wasn’t one of them. _Thankfully_.

When he lifted her up, she hopped without question, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Condoms are upstairs.” he mumbled in her neck. She simply nodded, let him carry her, _trusting_ him to carry her up the stairs without tripping or killing them both.

It slowed things down a little, which was probably not a bad thing. She let herself explore his chest a little more thoroughly while he got them to the bedroom.

He had a collection of scars but the big swollen one on the right side of his stomach still looked painful even though she knew for a fact he had received it on the night of Mabel Larson’s death, a good twenty-four years earlier. It was recorded in Mags’ journals. He tightened his hold with his left arm and relocated her hand with his right one when she touched it too long. He didn’t address it or tell her to stay away but she avoided the area afterwards.

If he had noticed her own scars, he didn’t let on.

They were small and few because she despised physical fighting but you didn’t work for the Council for more than half your life without getting a few scars. Most of them came from the time she had still been a Potential, not yet using magic as a mean of defense but forced to follow her Watcher’s command when it came to fighting vampires twice her size without the supernatural strength of a real Slayer. They were imperfections on an otherwise perfect skin, a reminder of a time she preferred to forget.

He almost tripped at the top of the stairs and she found herself trapped against the banister. He captured her mouth again and she tangled her fingers in his hair, taking control of the kiss just because she could. He resisted and fought her for it right up until he must have decided it was more important for him to get her to his bed than to win a kissing contest because he gave in to her and started walking again.

He bumped into all the furniture on the way there and that made her giggle. The sound seemed to please him because he bowed his head to nuzzle her breasts, to hide his own smile she suspected.

Her neck and her breasts felt tender where he kissed, licked and nipped. She wondered if his stubble would leave a rash. She wondered how it would feel on her inner thighs.

His bedroom was in a worse state than the kitchen and she decided to ignore the heaps of dirty clothes on the floor, the abandoned bottles on the furniture and the stale smell in the air. It wasn’t really hard because he was kissing her again and the rough calluses of his palms on her body were enough to thrill her. When he lied them both down on the bed, she let her hand drift south of the scar on his stomach and took the situation in hand again – so to speak.

She was gratified when he sucked in a breath and bit down on her collarbone. Clearly, he was liking what she was doing because she had him thrusting into her fist in seconds.

He grabbed her under the thighs, roughly tugged her higher up the bed so her head was on the pillow and then his fingers were between her legs and her eyelids fluttered close. She felt him reach blindly for the nightstand with his free hand, she heard him knock something over, a lamp or a bottle given the dull sound it made when it hit the floor… Not broken but cracked probably.

She reached up to arrange the pillow under her head because it was digging painfully at the base of her neck but her wrist was trapped in a tight grip before she could make contact. Her eyes flew open and she looked up straight into his grey eyes, confused…

At least until he let go and reached under the pillow himself to toss a hunting knife on the nightstand. She would have cut herself if he hadn’t stopped her.

He waited for a second but, when she didn’t say anything, he reached for the bedside table’s drawer again.

She could understand why he would want a weapon close by at night. The only reason she didn’t keep one was because she could summon a fireball at will.

Finally, he produced a square package with a triumphant smirk that was a little disproportionate. Looking at him, you would have thought he had just killed a hoard of demons by himself or something. She tried to hide her amusement but if she trusted the small bite of rebuke on her chin, she probably hadn’t been very good at it.

She learned the planes of his shoulder blades while he rolled the condom on; she licked his neck and tested the scratchy feel of his beard on her tongue only to nip at his Adam’s apple.

He didn’t ask if she was ready or sought permission before entering her, although by that point she supposed it would have been redundant. She was more than ready and she was also obviously more than willing. Still, he gave her about three seconds to adjust before he started moving.

He imposed a hard pace, hard enough that their hips bumped with every new thrust, and soon enough she was making increasingly loud incoherent noises that culminated in a cry of bliss. He came with a grunt and collapsed on her a minute later.

For a while, the only sound in the room was their panting, then he slid off her upper body and to the side where he rested on his stomach, his face turned away from her. He hadn’t slid enough that he wasn’t still crushing her a little though, her left leg and her left arm were both trapped under him. She rolled on her side and hooked her free thigh over his ass, nestling her head in the crook between his shoulder and neck. He smelt like sweat and sex. She poked at his skin with her tongue, he tasted salty. Not entirely unpleasant though. His hand felt around for her ass and gave it a squeeze.

She had sort of expected to be kicked out of his bed as soon as the deed was done so it was a little unexpected to be allowed to cuddle.

It was entirely possible she dozed off for a few minutes. Her body was spent and limp, her mind was floating and she felt safe enough with his arm tossed over her as it was. She couldn’t fall asleep though, she chided herself, no matter how surprisingly comfortable the uncomfortable position was: she had things to do. Haymitch wasn’t asleep either. His body was far less relaxed than hers.

She started drawing patterns on his back, to test the waters. There were scars there too. She could feel them under her fingertips. Thinner, faded…

“Those things ain’t nails, they’re claws.” he mocked but he didn’t seem to mind her scratching his back too much.

She huffed. He tightened his awkward hold on her when he felt the puff of breath against his neck. It was an unconscious reaction and she liked it. She liked the way his body reacted to hers.

“Men are usually not _this_ broody after having sex with me.” she teased.

She didn’t ask if it was because he hadn’t liked it. She knew he _had_. Not only because she was _that_ good but because it _really_ had been particularly good. They had chemistry. She had known it the first time she had put a foot in his classroom, the moment he had looked up at her from behind his desk. She had felt it like a hook in her guts.

“I ain’t brooding.” he scoffed. She let out an unconvinced humming noise that he answered with a sigh. “I _ain’t_. It’s just… Some stuff that kid said the other night. Kept circling back to it.”

“The Hawthorne boy?” she guessed easily. He wouldn’t have talked about Katniss with that much blatant hostility and she knew he liked Peeta. That left the new addition. “You do not like him.”

“What’s to like?” he scowled. “Thinks he hung the moon, that one. Probably thinks he’d make a better Slayer than Katniss too.”

“Why do you tolerate him, then?” she asked, curious. “You’re Katniss’ Watcher. _Order_ her to keep him out of Slayer business. Where he does _not_ belong anyway.”

“You obeyed every of your Watcher’s orders when you were a Potential, sweetheart?” he mocked with fake sweetness.

Probably because he could guess at the answer.

“It is a Slayer’s duty to forsake friends and family to fight evil.” she pointed out. “It is _extremely_ rare for them to be allowed to still go to school, you realize.”

_She_ hadn’t been allowed to. From the moment she had been detected as a Potential, it had been private tutors in between hours of pointless training. Lonely and boring. Is it any wonder she had sneaked out to bars and clubs as early as her fifteenth birthday?

“That’s not how I do things.” he countered. “And, yeah, you can report that to the Council.”

“They are aware Katniss is still in high-school obviously.” she answered, annoyed that he was bringing that up _then_. She would have liked to enjoy her afterglow. But perhaps that was why she was still there and he was keeping her half trapped under him. Pillow talk. “I have not, _however_ , informed them of her connections yet. I did not think it wise to tell President Coin you were allowing teenagers to fight with her.”

“I ain’t _allowing_ anything.” he sighed. “Peeta wants to help. It’s safer if I monitor than having him sneak around us and getting himself killed by his own ignorance.” He paused and then she could hear the scowl in his voice. She wished he would at least face her. “The whole Slayers have to fight alone thing is _bullshit_ anyway. I’ve always tagged along.”

“Well, a Watcher is allowed to assist.” she admitted.

“No. I’ve _always_ tagged along.” he insisted. “I was too young when my mother… But when Mags went out to patrol _after_ , when there wasn’t a Slayer in the Seam anymore, I went with her. She trained me for it. I _asked_ her to train me for it. Think I got my first vampire when I was thirteen or something like it… When Mabel was called, I tagged along too. We were a team. Ain’t a bad thing for a Slayer to have a team.”

She considered that in silence, trailing her nails up and down the arm that was still around her.

“Perhaps.” she hesitated. “I will observe some more before making that particular report.” She had let herself get distracted from the original topic though. “What did Gale Hawthorne say that has you brooding even though I am naked in your bed?”

He chuckled. “You think a lot of yourself, yeah?”

“I like to believe I think just the right amount of myself.” she grinned, bumping her nose against his shoulder. “Is it about his preposterous accusations about your relationship with Katniss? You should know it is all over the staff room but _nobody_ believes it.”

She had made sure of it.

“Nah… Other stuff.” he sighed. “Don’t need you to play therapist, sweetheart. I’ve got my liquor for that. You can tell that to Coin too.”

He moved before she could answer. So swiftly, she had no chance to understand what had happened until she was trapped under him, her arms over her head and her wrists wrapped in his big hands. His face hovered over hers. He was propped up only by his hips and his hands so it wasn’t entirely comfortable for her but the pain was mild and she was a little excited to have him between her legs again.

“Isn’t it out of your system yet?” she challenged, a twinkle in her blue eyes.

“How many men get it out of their system with only one ride?” he smirked back.

“A few.” she offered honestly. “Not that many.”

They stared at each other for a moment. She suspected he was liking the nonchalant way she was lying trapped under him. He was enjoying the power just as much as her refusal to give him the satisfaction of being afraid of him. She _liked_ having him on top of her. She could get used to it, she realized. Not that she would. Because this would remain a one time thing.

They would have sex again and then she would leave his house and they would put it behind them.

“Why did you move across the street?” he asked.

She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Maybe.” he shrugged, his thumb stroking her inner wrist.

“Peculiar torture technique.” she teased. “Do you use it often?”

He didn’t chuckle or play into the banter. His face grew serious. “You’re a spy and I can’t trust you. Did Coin order you to get closer to me? Did she tell you to get me into bed so I’d spill all my secrets?”

All the playfulness was gone all of a sudden and she was left gazing up at him, feeling sad and a little scared that he actually _believed_ that.

“I moved into that house because I thought then, _maybe,_ you would think about calling me before summoning a couple of teenagers when the next vampire cult wants to bring on the Apocalypse.” she confessed. “I want to be _involved_ , Haymitch.” She stopped and licked her lips before pursing them. “As for the other accusation… I do not know who you think I _am_ …”

“Spare me the offended act.” he cut her off. “I know Coin. No sacrifice’s too great. If she’s told you to lie on your back and think of Mother England…”

She rolled her eyes. “I am _an American_ and if you believe that _why_ would you even…”

“’Cause you’re hot and I needed to get it out of my system just like you said.” he interrupted again. “Thing is, though, Trinket… How do I know what your real game is here?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it, not quite sure what she could say to convince him. To convince him of _what_ anyway? That she was on his side? _Was_ she?  She was there on Council orders. And why would there need to be sides anyway? Weren’t they all on the _same_ one? The side of _good_?

Haymitch’s methods might be unconventional but they had been successful before, the Cresta situation notwithstanding.

“I want to help.” she said again.

“Yeah…” he sighed, letting go of her wrists to sit up. “But help _who_?”

He was going to get up, leave the bed and she would lose any chance to explain herself…

She sat up too and grabbed his arm. “Haymitch, please…” He was kneeling between her legs and she almost wrapped them around him to keep him in place. But that would have been a mistake. He wouldn’t thank her for feeling trapped. She swallowed hard. “Yes, I _do_ make weekly phone calls to President Coin but… That does not mean I… I simply want to do my job the best way that I can. Perhaps then I will be promoted. And, _of_ _course_ … I _told_ you I was interested in learning from you.” She bit down on her bottom lip and met his eyes again. “The sex… The sex was because I _really_ wanted to. I have wanted to since before I even met you.”

That last addition was, perhaps, one too many but she didn’t regret it because the way he kissed her next took her breath away.

There was no finesse or patience to their next bout of lovemaking. It was not even lovemaking, truly. If she had been more vulgar, she would have simply called it _fucking_.

“Don’t make me regret letting you close to my Slayer.” he hissed in her ear in the middle of it. “I don’t want to have to kill you.”

But he would.

She knew that with certainty.

“I would never make any move against a Slayer, Haymitch. I am not suicidal.”  she retorted before sucking his earlobe into her mouth and biting down on it. Hard.

This time, when they were done, he rolled them over so she was sprawled on his chest. She supposed that mean she was free to go when she wished. She wasn’t quite ready to just yet however. She wasn’t sure her legs would carry her.

“What time is it?” she whispered. “I am having dinner with Plutarch tonight.”

And her dresses were somewhere in a box lost in a sea of other boxes. She had had everything shipped from England in express delivery since it was clear she would be in the Seam for a long time anyway and she hadn’t been there to supervise the movers. Who knew what they had done with the brand new furniture or her boxes?

“You often have sex with a guy in the afternoon and then go out on a date with another for dinner?” he asked. There was no jealousy or possessiveness in the tone, though. Simply amusement.

She made a face. “I do not _date_ Plutarch. It is work related. He wants to discuss the talent show.”

“Oh, don’t even talk to me about _that_ …” he groaned. “He’s been trying to sweet talk me into organizing it. Ain’t happening in a million years.”

She felt his fingers play with her hair and she forgot to answer, simply happy to close her eyes and let herself be lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart. Not that she _would_ fall asleep.

“Thought you wanted to keep a close eye on the Hellmouth?” he asked, after a while. She thought back to the rotten tendrils of magic that had been so eager for her to use them back in _The Capitol_ and she shuddered. His hand stilled in her hair. “What?”

“I think it got too close an eye on me.” she whispered. “There is more than one reason I wanted to move over here. There is safety in numbers.”

Not that she needed _help_ or _protection_ but… She would feel better knowing there was another Watcher close by in case she was in danger.

He let out a long breath, his tone was reluctant but resigned too. “You should come to patrol sometimes.”

“Really?” she beamed, glancing up.

She wasn’t _thrilled_ about the prospect of a night stroll in a cemetery but being invited meant she would be accepted in the group and _that_ was the important thing. If she could make herself useful to the Slayer, that would reflect really well on her abilities.

“Don’t look so chipper about it.” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and flipping them over again so she was underneath him. She didn’t protest, particularly when she felt the poke on her inner thigh. “So… Is the thing out of your system yet?”

Her lips twitched. “Is that a stake again?”

“Not this time.” he smirked. “Last time wasn’t either, to be honest.”

She had known that. Or, at least, she had strongly suspected it.

“You have stamina.” She grinned. “How am I supposed to get it out of my system if I know you have stamina?”

 He chuckled and attacked her neck with the blunt of his teeth. She would have to wear a scarf to dinner. Or find a turtleneck somewhere.

“It’s been a long time.” he admitted. “Or maybe you’re a sex demon after all.”

“It must be that…” she joked. “I am simply _irresistible_.”

“One last time.” he warned. “Then never again.”

“One last time.” she agreed.

Then never again.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist, effie might in fact be a sex demon ;) Who thinks it will never happen again? Raise your hand? XD
> 
> So with the end of this episode we take a two weeks hiatus so we'll see each other again on the 31st for a very magical talent show!

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Hated it? Please let me know your thoughts!


End file.
